When Pride Goeth
by Crowlows19
Summary: Four soldiers are thrown into the secret world of teenagers when a secret threatens lives and a three year old mystery finds itself once again on the front page. Complete rewrite of Spartan Pride.
1. Chapter 1

Hope this one goes better. Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: I do not own Alex Rider.

* * *

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Three Years from **NOW.**

Kale Yenker had been listening to his hand held radio that night. He would later tell police that was why he hadn't heard a thing. The football game was on and he had it playing as he swept the floor in the South Wing hallway of Brookland School. The fifty-two year old was hard of hearing due to an old accident in the factory that had let him go years before. So the radio was loud and even though he should have been able to hear the noises the boy made, they slipped by his notice.

The broom caught bits of paper, gum wrappers, dirt and dust in its bristles. That was all rather normal. He paused when the broom hit water. That was odd. The first odd thing he'd seen all night. There should be no water on the floor and Kale knew it. There was no mopping scheduled for the night; that wouldn't happen until Friday night and today was only Wednesday.

Kale leaned the broom against the wall and followed the puddle to the boy's bathroom door. He pulled the ear buds from his ears and heard the steady running of the bathroom faucet. That shouldn't be on. His eyebrows crinkled and he pushed open the door.

"Szar!" he screamed. The water covered the entire floor. The sink faucet was on, filling the sink and overflowing. In the back of his mind Kale knew that if the boy hadn't been in the sink, the sink wouldn't have overflowed. The old janitor also knew that acting on his impulse to pull the boy's face from the water wouldn't do any good either. He was dead. Probably had been for a while considering the amount of water on the floor. Kale turned and exited the bathroom. He needed a phone. Now.

* * *

The police swarmed the school for the rest of that night and for most of the next week as well. Kale Yenker gave his statement. The water was finally turned off and the boy pulled from his position in the sink. He had been draped over the side, just enough to hold him there even when no one was touching him.

Rumors ran rampant. The murder had occurred after hours when the school should been closed. No one was supposed to be there. Conspiracy theories were everywhere, but those were always ignored by the people who knew better. The boy was given a memorial and flowers and candles covered the area beneath his locker for a few months. The media seemed enthralled by the mystery that surrounded it all and even ran a series of articles about it.

But the case went cold; the yellow tape was taken down; Kale Yenker continued sweeping the floors of Brookland on Wednesdays and mopping on Fridays. The old janitor never found anything like that again. But he did stop wearing the ear buds.

* * *

Two Years from **NOW.**

"Did you hear about Coach Cyrus?" Tom asked.

"Who hasn't?" Alex replied, not really interested. He'd just gotten back from the Stormbreaker debacle and he wasn't thinking much about what was happening in the school at the moment. Although, it was an interesting piece of gossip. After all, how often was the head Coach imprisoned? "What was he arrested for again?"

"I don't really know," Tom shrugged, unconcerned with details. "I heard he was arrested for stealing but I don't know what he stole." Alex grunted in reply. Maybe if someone had thought to arrest Sayle a long time ago for something or other, none of what had happened would have happened. Oh well. It was over and he was back. He wondered if he could convince Tom to a pickup game after school.

"I heard a rumor," Tom continued, cutting into the blond boy's contemplation.

"Yeah?" Alex opened, never one for rumors but curious nonetheless. Tom only ever reported what was worth hearing. He was good like that.

"They're saying the Coach might have killed _him_," the other boy said, whispering the last word uncomfortably. Nobody talked about it anymore. Nobody even liked to say the name. Alex wasn't too sure why but the name of the murdered boy had become taboo over the last year. All things considered, however, it wasn't too far of a stretch to think that something unsavory was going on. There was always something happening in Brookland.

"Why?" Alex finally asked realizing that Tom was waiting for an answer. The other boy shrugged.

"Who knows?"

"The Coach had no reason to even look at him funny much less kill him," Alex continued knowing that there was something fishy in the way Tom was talking.

"I know that."

"Then why would people think-" Alex started only to be cut off.

"I don't know, Alex!" Tom snapped, stopping his friend cold. The blond looked at him with slightly widened eyes, wondering what had made Tom react like that. He had never seen Tom snap at anyone; the kid was the calmest person Alex had ever met.  
Alex opened his mouth to say something but Tom had already walked off. Another first in their long friendship. The blond decided not to bring up the murder again. At least for now.

* * *

One Year from **NOW**.

Fifteen, Alex decided, was a good age. He figured now was the time to start fresh. He decided he was going to go back to school and maybe get some good grades in the process. Who knew? Maybe he'd even reconnect with his old friends too. It had been a long time since he'd really and honestly been in Brookland. Despite everything-or maybe because of everything-he was ready to be walking the halls again.

He wouldn't doubt that he was the only student who truly loved the slam of lockers, the squeak of trainers on the waxed floors, and the smell of the floor cleaner the old man used when mopping every Friday night. It wasn't a bad smell and by the time Monday morning rolled around it was all but gone, lost in the mix of perfumes and deodorant. But Alex, trained to notice the minute details in everything and everyone, could smell the vague lemon scent. It was strongest when he leaned down to pick up his backpack from where he'd dumped it on the floor to open his locker. He liked that smell, that vague hint of lemon you could only smell every Monday. It reminded him of normalcy.

"Hey," Tom said loudly as he sidled up to the side of Alex's locker. The other teen was all smiles and bright eyes. Tom had always been a morning person. Even on Mondays. Alex normally hated him for it but today he was too excited to be back to pay much attention to Tom's normally annoying chattiness. "You're back! For how long?"

"For as long as it lasts," Alex replied. He was aiming for graduation but couldn't quite bring himself to hope for such a thing.

"Well, isn't that charmingly morose," Tom said, as Alex closed his locker door and the two began walking towards English together. "How does it feel to be back in these grand old halls?"

"Pretty good actually," Alex replied.

"Don't worry. That feeling will go away soon enough." Alex laughed at that, had to. Truth be told he knew that eventually the novelty of being back would wear off and he'd be as sour about being there as anyone else. For now though, he was looking forward to basking in normalcy.

When they entered their English class, several people turned and stared at him. He ignored them and sat down in the back with Tom. Once their attention was off of him he glanced around to see who was there. He was surprised to see an old friend of his from the rugby team, Max, talking with some of the drama club kids. He had on blue jeans and a rugby jersey, like always, but he was holding a small, blue booklet in his hand. His brown hair and blue eyes were the same as Alex remembered them to be but he also seemed to have put on a few more pounds.

"Since when does Max do theater?" Alex asked Tom quietly. The other glanced up and saw Max standing in the corner. He was looking at them now, and while the look wasn't sour it wasn't friendly either.

"A couple of months I guess," Tom replied. "He took that class they make us all do last semester. I guess he liked it. He even quit the team."

"Really?" Alex asked, surprised. Max had loved playing rugby. That did explain the extra weight though. The boy wasn't working out anymore. Alex was distracted from Max at that moment when another face he recognized walked in. Blonde hair-much lighter than Alex's-and green eyes that met his gaze head on. If Max's look had been chilly this one was downright frozen. The other boy scowled at him and sat down next to a popular girl, Sara. The 'it' girl if Alex remembered correctly. The brunette bombshell leaned over and kissed the boy quickly on the cheek before the teacher could come in. Alex's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"Ryan and Sara?" he asked incredulous and Tom smirked at the look on his face. "Since when?"

"Since Ryan got popular," Tom said. "You've been gone a long time Alex."

"Only a year," Alex said. Neither of them were counting the few days here and there he'd come to class between missions. They didn't really matter.

"Long enough," Tom shrugged. "Things changed."

"You guys still hanging out?" he asked wondering if the old circle was still around. Based on the frosty reception, the answer would be a no.

"We sometimes go to the same parties," Tom started, "but nothing like it used to be. We all kind of do our own thing."

"So you're friendly but not friends," Alex stated.

"You could say that."

"I am saying that," Alex continued. "Would you say that?"

"Yeah, super spy," Tom said, a small amount of bite creeping into his tone. "I would say that." Alex eyed the other boy. He understood why continuing this line of conversation wouldn't be a good idea. The last thing he wanted was to get in a fight with Tom on his first day back. But something was niggling in his gut. Everything had changed so much in the time he'd been away. His only true friend was Tom. He didn't really have anybody else he could talk to.

He knew that the sheer destructive nature of his secrets would be a problem. But he had not expected Max's cold shoulder or Ryan's pure look of loathing. They had all once been good friends. Clearly it wasn't him though; none of them seemed to be speaking to each other. He wondered what had happened in the year he'd been away.

* * *

Three months from **NOW.**

Max had finally finished for the day; the cast had been chosen for the next play and he could finally go home. He'd had a headache brewing since early that morning but it was now a full on migraine. Between all the classes, teachers, homework, and drama he was more than a little exhausted.

The boy walked down the semi-darkened second floor hallway. His trainers squeaked on the newly mopped floors and the strong lemony scent of the cleaner reached his nostrils. He vaguely wondered if the old man had been using that same cleaner since he'd been there. Every Friday at 5:30 the man would sweep and then mop. The entire school was done by the time he finished late at night. But he always started in the South Wing.

Max passed the bathrooms as he made his way to his locker. It was November now, and the nights were long. The sun had already disappeared and the slightly darkened hallway was creepy with its long shadows and hidden corners. He walked quickly past the boy's restroom. He never lingered by that door. They said it was haunted these days. Not that he believed such things, really. Ghosts were only real in Shakespeare stories and those stupid horror films that Tom Harris always watched.

He was soon at his locker. He stopped suddenly, not sure what to do. There taped to his locker was a folded piece of red paper. He had only seen red paper in construction paper packets but when he stepped up to feel it, it felt fine, cloth like even. Parchment, his mind told him. It was parchment paper. Wasn't that stuff expensive?

Carefully peeling the paper away from the locker door he unfolded it and read. His blood froze and his heart stopped. At least that was what it felt like. He had never felt stark terror before but he was pretty sure that this was what it felt like.

_I know what you did. And I'm going to tell._

The message wasn't signed. The writing wasn't even handwriting. It was typed with that special font that was meant to look like handwriting. Max didn't know who would leave such a message.

_Squeeeak._

He turned sharply at the sound of the squeak. It was the same sound his trainers had made on the freshly cleaned floor as he walked to his locker. He looked back down the shadowy hallway but there was no one there. Just shadows and his own paranoia. Forgetting what he had gone down there for, he put the red parchment paper in his pocket and ran back towards the main doors. He didn't slow down until he was halfway down the block.

* * *

Two Months from **NOW.**

"Ryan," Sara whined and the blond gritted his teeth in an effort not to snap her head off. "Why won't you come out with me this Saturday?"

"I already told you," he said as neutrally as he could. He wasn't sure if he could explain it anymore than he already had. Maybe if used extra small words. He mentally winced at how cold that sounded. He liked Sara, he really did, but the girl was annoying him to no end lately. He used the excuse of opening up his locker to put his back to her.

"Well fine," she huffed. "But I'm not missing the biggest party of the year because _you_ want to be some little shutterbug." He rolled his eyes as she stomped away and continued twisting the lock to the right numbers. Sometimes he wished he'd never become popular. He was unprepared for how much work it was. He sometimes missed watching Tom's terrible horror movies and hiding Max's stuff from him. He remembered when they'd once tried to do that with Alex. Not only had they failed but they'd all ended up with something going missing. He never had found those missing socks.

The lock clicked free and Ryan yanked the door open. He paused when he saw a folded piece of red paper on top of his Chemistry book. It was folded in half and propped up so that it stood on its own. It clearly hadn't been slipped through the grill of his locker which made him scowl. He gave his locker combination to no one. Not even to Sara. He paused when he realized he'd seen that before. In English. Max had been clutching at a red piece of paper for about month now. By the way the kid had been looking at it, it had scared the shit out of him. Not that that wasn't easy to do.

Curious, Ryan picked it up and opened it. As he read his fingers went numb and he dropped the bottle of soda he'd been holding. He hadn't capped it and when it hit the floor it spilled everywhere, soaking the hem of his jeans and getting on his brand new trainers. He paid it no mind. He couldn't seem to move and his breath caught in his chest.

_Does Sara know what you did? Why don't I tell her?_

The script wasn't real handwriting, he noted. The note wasn't signed and the paper felt strange, like it was parchment or some sort of other fancy paper. Logically he knew that this person could be talking about any number of things. But the person who had left this note had probably left something with Max as well. It was the same paper, he was sure of it. Besides, what if they were talking about what he thought they were talking about?

Ryan turned his head to see Max just down the hall at his own locker. The bulky, drama nerd looked stressed and more than a little worried. Ryan knew how easy it was to freak Max out and if the other boy _had_ received something similar it would explain his sudden jumpiness. Not that Ryan paid much attention to Max anymore. They didn't travel in same circle.

He looked back at the note. It was vague. Everyone knew Max was a scaredey cat and everyone knew he and Max had once been friends. It was a joke; a really crappy practical joke. Ryan folded the note back up and tore it to pieces. He slammed the locker door shut just as the first bell rang and made his way to English class. He dumped the remains of the note in the trash can of the boy's restroom.

Now, how was he going to get Sara off his back about that Saturday?

* * *

One Month from **NOW.**

The showers of the boy's locker room had one setting. Cold drizzle. It made for a miserable shower in the dead of winter. Tom didn't care that he was sweating and hot from that practice. A hot shower was a necessity and a God given right. Not that Brookland ever cared about God given rights. He soaped up and rinsed as quickly as he could, drying off and then crouching under the hand dryer in order to warm himself back up.

The team laughed at the sight of him but he didn't care. It was warm and he knew they'd be doing the same thing once they got their showers. How he despised Brookland's cheapness. How hard was it to pipe in hot water at a semi normal pressure? Geez.

"At least you have the towel this time Harris," Josh Hankin yelled as he walked past Tom to his bag. Tom gave him a lopsided grin at the remark.

"It's not _my_ fault my junk got cold," he shouted back over the noise of the loud air. It cut off just then and he slammed his hand back down on the button to turn it back on. "I had to save them!"

"Whatever, Mr. Action Man." Hankin rolled his eyes and started dressing. Tom stood under the dryer, letting the hot air hit his back for a long while. It felt good and his eyes started to droop. When he realized that he was nearly the last one in the locker room he finally straightened out went to his gym bag to redress.

The room grew quiet as the second stringers left, the door slamming behind them just as Tom snapped his blue jeans. He sat on the scratched wooden bench to pull on his boots when he heard the showers come back on. His head snapped back up and his eyebrows crinkled. He'd thought he was the last one in here. As captain he was supposed to lock up the locker room and equipment. Brookland didn't think it necessary to get an equipment manager when they already had him. He quickly pulled on his other boot and tied the laces before standing up to investigate and hurry the other guy up. He reached the bank of showers and paused.

The showers were set up as individual stalls facing each other over a narrow aisle with five on each side and ending in a dead end. A thin, sheer white curtain-now yellowed-attempted to cover the entrance of each stall. The walls of each stall went from the ceiling to the floor so there was no way for him to glance under to see which stall was being used. By the sounds of the water, there were at least two showers going.

"Hello?" he called out as he began moving down the aisle looking for closed curtains. There was no uniform piled on the floor like he knew there should have been which only made him more confused. "Hey! You need to hurry up or I'm gonna lock you in here!" There was no response. He came to the first stream of water he was hearing. The curtain was open and the shower stall was empty. He reached in and turned off the water. He went forward until he found the next empty stall of running water. He turned that one off too. He was starting to think he'd have to talk to the team about conserving water.

He came to the end of the aisle and heard water coming from the last shower on his right. This curtain was closed and he hesitated, not wanting to just fling it open on some unsuspecting person.

"Hey," he called out again. "Is anybody in there?" He heard no answer and again there was no uniform in front of the stall. He reached out and pulled the curtain aside. The stall was empty. He shook his head at his teammates and shut off the shower. The room fell silent again and he shook his hand to get rid of the drops of water that had landed there.

_BANG!_

Tom jumped and whirled around at the sound of a locker door slamming shut.

"Who's there?" he called out, seriously tired of not being answered. He _knew _there was somebody in here with him. There had to be. Locker doors didn't just slam on their own. He started to walk to the end of the shower bank when he suddenly found himself in pitch black.

"HEY!" he shouted angrily, at the end of his patience. Those lights weren't on a timer. Somebody had shut them off and it hadn't been him. "Turn those lights back on!"

He still got no answer but he heard the faint squeak of the locker room door open and saw the light from the gym outside spill onto the floor in front of him. In the middle of that light was a shadow but it quickly disappeared and the door shut again, leaving him once again in the dark. Tom felt his way along the rest of the bank, feeling the shower curtains until he finally touched solid brick. He followed that towards where he knew the light switch was. He knew this locker room better than anyone and navigating it in pitch black wasn't a big deal. He found the switch and turned the lights back on.

As soon as his eyes readjusted he looked over his shoulder but found no one. Cursing under his breath at his speeding heart, he walked back to where he'd left his bag. He paused when he saw the folded red paper on top. He looked back over his shoulder as if expecting to find whoever had left it there smiling at him over their well executed prank. He had to admit it had freaked him out and he didn't scare easily.

Shaking his head again, he stepped over and snatched up the paper, pausing only to note the strange texture. It wasn't like normal paper and he'd never felt anything like it before. He opened it.

_I know what you're hiding. I know everything._

The short, unsigned message did more to freak him out than the last five minutes ever could have. This hadn't been there when he'd left his bag to investigate the showers. That shadow. Whoever that shadow belonged to had left this here as well. Tom spun and looked wildly around the locker room as if he could find that person. Not that he knew what he'd do but at least he'd know who they were.

Feeling more than a little panicked, Tom spun and crouched at his gym bag, quickly throwing all of his gear inside haphazardly. He stood and shouldered the bag, stuffing the note into his pocket. Leaving the locker room faster than he ever had before, he turned off the lights and locked the door with the spare key he kept on his key chain. The one Alex had gotten him when they were seven. The Cookie Monster one.

He didn't bother to check that the equipment was all there. He just locked the room and left the school as quickly as he could. He didn't calm down until he was in his own room and the note was through the shredder.

* * *

One Week from **NOW.**

Max had noticed both Tom and Ryan giving him looks for awhile now. He wondered why. It wasn't like the three of them had any reason to communicate with each other. He missed them of course, they'd always had fun together but they weren't friends anymore. They couldn't even talk to each other normally.

He felt Tom's stare from the back of the room and he felt Ryan's stare from his right. Max shifted, uncomfortable from the weight of those stares. He didn't like the way they felt. His stomach clenched on him and he felt his breakfast try to come up. He raised his hand to get the teacher's attention but the moment she looked at him, he couldn't even open his mouth. He got up quickly from his seat and darted out of the classroom.

"Mr. Torren!" he heard the woman exclaim but he didn't stop. He made it to the nearest bathroom and into the stall before the toast pushed its way up and out. He'd never been very good with stress or stares. It was why he was only the stage manager and not on the stage. Stares. He hated them.

He flushed the toilet without looking inside and sat back against the wall. He heard the crinkle of the red paper in his pocket. It had been in there for nearly four months now and he'd done nothing but fret about it. He'd considered getting rid of it but for some reason he couldn't. Who had sent it? Who knew? One of the other guys? But that didn't make much sense. Why would they want to tell? They wouldn't; that was stupid. It was someone else. It had to be. But who?

Max wiped at the tears in his eyes as he heard the door to the bathroom open. He hadn't shut the door to the stall and he probably looked pathetic with his tall, thick frame crouched on the floor like some small child. He was such an idiot to let something like _this_ get to him. For all he knew the note was a practical joke.

He snapped out of his thoughts when he became aware that the person who'd entered was just standing there. He saw his shoes first but he'd know them anywhere. Black, blue, and green Nike 2.0 high tops, probably from the store in the plaza that bought low and sold ridiculously high. Max's eyes slowly moved up the other boy's thin but toned frame before resting on his blank face. The larger boy took in the expensive jeans, the designer shirt that Max wouldn't have paid more than five pounds for but probably cost ten times that. Ryan always had been a snob.

"What's wrong with you?" Ryan asked, his tone all but unreadable to Max.

"Nothing," he mumbled, looking away. Not that it did any good. He could practically _feel_ Ryan smirking at him.

"Lair," Ryan sneered. "You've been clutching onto that red paper like a lifeline for months now." Max's head shot up in shock at that. Since when did Ryan notice anything about him, or anyone else for that matter?

"You know?" he asked quietly.

"Duh you big oaf," Ryan replied. "You didn't think you were the only one to get one of those stupid papers did you?"

"So you guys got one too?" a new voice asked. Max couldn't see around the wall of his stall to the doorway but he knew that voice. Tom.

"Yeah we got one too," Ryan told the other boy as he joined them. The blonde crossed his arms and looked back down to Max on the floor. "Mr. Sensitive here even made himself sick over it."

"Ryan, leave him alone," Tom said and moved forward to offer Max a hand up. The larger boy took it but did his best not to tip Tom over with his weight. Ryan rolled his eyes.

"So what do you think Tom?" he asked. "Legit?"

"Probably," Tom replied. "It wasn't one of us."

"What about Alex?" Ryan asked and Max heard the faint sound of bitterness in his voice. Ryan had been really nasty to Alex since he'd come back nearly a year ago. It was like he'd made it his life mission to make the other boy as miserable as possible. Max knew that Ryan could be harsh in the best of times and evil in the worst but even he had been surprised by some of the things Ryan had said. They hadn't been nice at all.

"Alex wouldn't do that," Tom defended and Max nodded.

"You're so sure?"

"Ryan," Max finally cut in. "Alex isn't like that. Besides ,look at this." He pulled the note out of his pocket and handed it to the blond who opened it and read it with Tom reading just over his shoulder. "Alex wouldn't want to tell any more than we would."

"Whatever," Ryan replied and crumpled the note in his fist. He moved quickly into the stall next to the one Max was still standing in.

"Hey!" Max cried out and moved quickly around the small barrier between them just in time to see Ryan throw the red paper into the toilet. "What are you doing!"

"Getting rid of it," the blond replied as he flushed. When he turned back around he looked Max square in the eye. "You're gonna kill yourself before we figure this out if you keep it." Max looked at him blankly for a moment, as did Tom. Ryan shook his head slightly as if to rid himself of a gnat and then continued speaking, "And don't tell anyone about this." He moved out of the stall and as he passed Max he patted him twice on his stomach. "And lay off the crisps; you look like a gorilla."

Max was too surprised to say anything to that. Tom seemed to be too surprised as well, as he just watched the other boy leave the bathroom without saying anything. He looked back at Max once the door had closed.

"Don't listen to him Max," Tom said kindly. Max gave him a weak smile at the attempt but changed the subject quickly.

"Do you think Alex has gotten one of those notes?" he asked. Tom sighed and looked away for a brief moment, as if hurriedly collecting his thoughts.

"It's possible," Tom replied looking back at the larger boy. "With Al anything is possible. I'll see you later Max. Feel better." With that Tom just left and Max heard the bell for the next period. He still had to go back and get his abandoned things from the English classroom and they'd want him to see the nurse too. But he didn't have the energy to move and just leaned against the wall.

Max knew that Tom knew where Alex had been when he'd been all but missing for that one year. Ever since Alex had been back things had seemed to be going okay for him and he seemed to be doing better than Max had ever seen after his Uncle died. Even with Ryan harping on him all the time Alex was being friendly with people again. But Alex only talked to Tom and Max was smart enough to know that the two of them were hiding something. Something only they knew. What it was Max had no idea but whatever it was had left Alex a continuous absence for a year.

What if Ryan was right and it was Alex leaving the notes? He knew enough to be the one behind it all. But that still sat wrong with Max. Alex just wasn't the sneaky type.

* * *

Six Hours from **NOW.**

Alex contemplated the red piece of paper in his hand. It was an interesting twist to the mundane story his life had become. Of all the things to be blackmailed over, it had to be _that_. But at least it seemed to be some sort of civilian, perhaps even a fellow student. He didn't want to see a reappearance of super villains in his life. He'd just gotten rid of them after all.

_ I know. You'll pay._

A rather short message all things considered. Alex knew there was really only one thing the person could be talking about. He'd seen Max with a similar piece of paper. He must have gotten a message as well. And if he and Max were getting threatening messages from the same person there was only one thing it could be about. But if Max had gotten a message, what about Ryan and Tom? He hadn't seen either of them with this special red paper. But then both of them were more inclined to destroy it rather than hold onto it.

He huffed in annoyance and slid off his bed, ripping the note into tiny pieces and dumped the pieces into the trash can by his desk. He'd found the thing in his Biology book of all places. They'd had a fire drill that day. It hadn't been there before the drill but it had been there after. Someone had slipped it there either after he had left or before he'd gotten back.

It was interesting, he figured, that he was being confronted for something that happened long before MI6. It was a fresh breath of air in a way. Despite the irony of it all, he did have a serious problem. Someone knew who wasn't supposed to. He wondered how he should bring this up with Tom because it _did_ need to be brought up. If Tom had gotten one Alex needed to know. The same went for Max and Ryan. They could be in danger.

"Alex, dinner!" Jack yelled up the stairs and Alex sighed.

"Coming!" he shouted back. He'd figure it out later. He wasn't too worried about it really. He'd handled much worse before.

* * *

**NOW.**

Kale Yenker dunked the mop back into the lemon cleaner-water mix in the mop bucket. He strained it and then set it down heavily on the floor with a _plop!_ He hummed as he worked on the second floor tile in the South Wing. Lost in his thoughts he almost didn't notice the shadow. He froze and looked carefully through the door of the open classroom down the hall. He sighed and shook his head when he realized it was just the skeleton in the Year Nine biology classroom.

These halls could play tricks on your eyes this time of night. He knew that better than anybody. There were always strange little shadows, noises, and creaks. The building itself was old and tired much like himself. It also didn't help that he knew someone had murdered that poor boy right under his nose.

Pushing aside those morose thoughts he continued with the mopping. He wondered if he would have to clean the boy's bathroom on this floor. No one ever seemed to want to use it. It was never as dirty as any of the others and often times the old janitor just let it sit for another week. He guessed the students didn't want to go near the place after what had happened there. He had heard the rumors that kids thought it was haunted. He didn't believe such things himself though. He never had.

He put the mop back in the bucket once more but this time he left it there. He went to the door of the bathroom and swung it open.

"Szar," he mumbled under his breath. His eyes were glued to it. He couldn't tear them away.

_His pride killed him._

It was written on the mirror above the sink. The one the boy had been drowned in. And in that sink was the home economics' male mannequin. It was positioned the same way the boy had been when Kale first found him. The head in the sink, the sink over flowing, and the hands still loosely gripping the sides from where he'd tried to push himself up and out. Even the hair of the mannequin was the same. Black. Black as the moonless night.

Kale seemed to stare at it forever when he heard the faint squeak of a trainer on his newly mopped floor. He spun his head around in time to see a black, hooded figure descend the stairs at the far end of the hall. He didn't try to go after them. His leg was too bad and he'd never catch them. Not to mention that the only people who had known about how the body had been left was himself, the police, and the killer.

His blood ran cold and his heart beat terribly. The killer had never been caught. They were back. And Kale had just seen them.

* * *

Next chapter will definitely have more Alex but I can't promise an appearance from anyone in K-Unit until at least Chapter 3. I'll try to work them as soon as possible. Also, three cookies to anyone who can guess who I based Ryan's character off of! Till next time!


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, hey, hey! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and again I'm sorry I had to end Spartan Pride. But you guys seem to really like this story so I guess I'm not too sorry :). Also, a lot of you did guess correctly that I based Ryan off of Draco Malfoy. I needed a snobby, some what manipulative personality and Malfoy was what my mind landed on. Too much fanfiction I guess. Anyway, enjoy the chapter.

* * *

**SATURDAY**

_Bzz. Bzz. Bzz. Bzz._

Ryan tore through his sheets trying to find his buzzing-and very annoying-mobile. The thing had been buzzing for a near ten minutes now and he was starting suspect that it wasn't a forgotten alarm, but either Sara or Max. Both were inclined to continuously call when in a panic, although it would be stupid beyond belief for Max to call _him_ about anything short of Armageddon. But of course, this was Max and every little crisis was potentially world-ending.

Tearing the covers off and scattering the pillows about, Ryan heard his Sidekick 3 hit the hardwood floor next to his bed. Tossing aside the blanket he finally uncovered the thing and saw that it was _Tom_ of all people who had been continuously calling. Ryan felt his stomach tighten just a bit as Tom had only ever done that once before.

Licking his lips nervously, he bent done and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Where have you been?" Tom snapped. "I've been trying to call you!"

"Yeah, I'm aware," Ryan replied unconcerned. "What's up?"

"Do you have any idea what they found in the bathroom up at Brookland?" Tom asked.

"Oh! Harris! I don't want to know!" Ryan exclaimed, thoroughly disgusted. There was no telling what they could find in those toilets and he didn't want to know what it was or how it got there. He was also extremely annoyed that Tom would even think of calling him about that once, much less twenty-three times in a row.

"Ryan!" Tom snapped again, only this time he sounded angrier than Ryan had ever heard him. "Somebody put the home economics mannequin in the bathroom. The _same_ bathroom. They're saying the room looked the exact same as that night!" Ryan froze, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. He quickly reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out his albuterol inhaler. Bringing the small red, plastic device to his mouth he squeezed off two quick puffs and breathed in deeply as his airways flowed back open.

"When was this?" He asked, crossing his room and shutting the door. The last thing he needed was his nosy siblings hearing and squealing about it to his Mum.

"Last night," Tom told him. "Old man Yenker found it when he was mopping up."

"That poor old man should really stop working there," Ryan mumbled unable to come up with anything appropriate to say and so fell back into his familiar-and comfortable-inappropriateness.

"I already called Max and Alex," Tom continued and Ryan was thankful he hadn't heard him or was simply ignoring him. "We need to meet."

"Where and when?" the blond asked.

"The old spot, the old time." The smaller boy hung up after that and Ryan squeezed his eyes shut. His hands shook but he couldn't tell if it was because of what he'd just been told or because the drug was spreading through his system.

He rubbed his eyes and collapsed onto his bed. He stared at his white, stuccoed ceiling as if it would have the answers he needed. What the hell? Who could possibly want to re-create the worst thing Brookland ever saw? Off the top of his head he thought of their football rivals at Royal West but he squashed that thought instantly. Tom had said that the room was supposedly a carbon copy of what it had been three years ago. Nobody knew _exactly _what that room had looked like; not even them and they had been shown _plenty_ of crime scene photos during the investigation.

He groaned. If somebody was re-creating crime scenes they would be the first ones the cops badgered. Again. Not that they'd done anything. For once he was able to claim innocence of the latest hallway atrocity. Although, his particular atrocity was the school yard equivalent to a nuclear strike. He doubted this was anybody whose hands were truly clean. The only person it could have possibly been was the killer.

They'd never been caught. They weren't even sure if it was a 'he'. There were never any suspects. He wondered if that was about to change because if he knew one thing about murder cases it was this: they were solved when they had more attention. And this was about to be the talk of the neighborhood.

* * *

The old shed used to be where the gardening and lawn tools were stored by the owners of the private park for the maintenance men. Those tools were still there but the lock had long been picked and spare keys had long disappeared. The park itself was technically only for the residents of the neighborhood and none of them lived in this part of town. Not even Ryan who had more money than any of them.

The park had fountains, cobblestone walkways, paved bikeways, lush gardens, and green lawns. It wasn't uncommon to find a family having a picnic in the spring and summer, nor was it uncommon to find a pair of grandparents just sitting on the bench and enjoying the end of a long life. It was beautiful in good weather and tragic in bad weather. Unlike in the public parks, the slides were graffiti free and the bushes weren't concealing drug buys and teenaged sex.

Ryan hated this place. Hated the manicured everything and the way the sun seemed to shine brighter here. The only real part of the park was the rundown, wooden garden shed they had stuck in the corner and forget about when the garden center was built three months after the park opened. The roof had a hole the size of Max and the sun would peek through the cracks in the boards to light the dust and dirt floating around; the door hung on one hinge and didn't like to close all the way.

They had found it five years ago, nearly ten years after it had been abandoned. Hidden by a grove of trees, the shed was private and quiet and _away_. It was theirs now. An imperfect relic in a perfect place. The poor shed reminded Ryan of the way things should be. It was ugly on the outside but inside it had been a place of fun and escape and of memories that crept up on him during the quietest of moments and still made him smile.

Coming up on the shed, he saw he was the last to arrive, and dropped his bike next to the other three. He pulled open the door just enough for him to slip inside quickly. He shut it behind him and waited a moment for his eyes to adjust. Max was sitting on an old fold up chair they'd found in a car park. Alex was standing near the back between the rusted gardening shears and an old poster of Carmen Electra which was a remnant of Harris's 'playa' phase. Said boy had claimed what they used to call the King's Throne, which was nothing but a wheel barrow with a nearly flat, plastic bean bag in it.

"Hey," Ryan said, somewhat uncomfortably. He hated being the last to arrive; it gave him shivers and made him feel more paranoid than normal. The other three acknowledged him with a 'Hi', 'Sup?', and a frosty stare. He was man enough to recognize he deserved the last.

"Ry, do you remember Jerry's friend James?" Tom asked and Ryan nodded. How could he forget James? He and Jerry used to be the coolest guys they had ever known. They used to idolize them. "Well, he joined the police force."

"You're kidding," Ryan replied with a small, half chuckle. He wouldn't have guessed that. As he remembered it the two older boys were more concerned with getting away with something, not preventing it.

"I know," Tom said with a smile that showed he too thought it was a crazy turn of events. "Anyway, he called me to fill me in on what happened last night."

"And what did happen?" Alex asked, sounding stiff. Ryan eyed him noticing that he was completely rigid. The boy wondered when the perpetually missing kid had gotten such good posture.

"Like I told you guys when I called," Tom said, absently scratching his nose, "somebody re-created the scene."

"Why?" Max squeaked from the chair looking like he was about to be sick. Ryan resisted his urge to roll his eyes. How could someone built like a grizzly bear be so easily scared? It almost hurt to see the kid like this.

"I don't know," Tom replied and then looked over to Alex.

"Probably a sick joke," the other boy said, still just as stiff.

"Did something crawl up your butt and die?" Ryan snapped suddenly, and all three turned to look at him in shock. Sure he had been nasty to Alex for the past year but nobody seemed to think he'd actually continue with his smear campaign _now_, of all times. It seemed awfully petty and perhaps it was but he just couldn't seem to help it.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Alex replied, not showing even a hint of anger or frustration. His utter lack of emotion made Ryan ball his fists. He hated it when Alex did his whole robot routine.

"You're standing like you have something jammed up your arse," Ryan seethed, eyes narrowing. Max looked completely surprised but Tom just raised his eyebrow and squared his shoulders, preparing to get up. It was a silent and subtle support of Alex and Ryan didn't appreciate it.

"So now you have a problem with the way I stand?" Alex asked, his tone not quite mocking but close enough. "Is there a particular position that wouldn't make you act bipolar?"

Ryan didn't have anything to say to that. He couldn't without making himself look ridiculous. So he just crossed his arms and shook his head, avoiding contact with everyone. He looked completely crazy, he knew it, but he couldn't help it. Alex just made him so angry.

"Anyway," Tom continued, "the cops might show up to talk to us again."

"But we don't know anything," Max said and Ryan, again resisted an eye roll. They were lucky none of them knew anything; Max would have squealed faster than a paid snitch.

"I know," Tom said quietly, before lapsing into thoughtful silence. "Just...be careful."

"Brilliant plan," Ryan mumbled.

"You have a better one?" Alex snapped, causing the second surprised shock in the last ten minutes. Again, Ryan shook his head and looked away.

"What are we going to do about the notes we got?" Max asked, chewing on his right thumbnail. "What if we get more?"

"Shred it," Ryan said. "It's just some joker, probably the same one."

"And what if it's the killer?" Tom asked. "We should tell someone."

"Like who?" Ryan asked. "Did anyone even keep their note?" Nobody answered. "That's what I thought. We can't go to anyone about anything without proof. Besides, how exactly are you planning to explain what they meant? We made a promise, remember?"

"Yes, Ryan," Alex said, back to his blank tone. "We remember just as well as you do."

"Fine," Tom said, shaking his head. "We'll just wait and see."

"Fine," Ryan replied, and then turned and left. He grabbed his bike from where he'd dumped it on the ground, mounted it, and rode out of the park to his home as quickly as he could. When he got there he left his bike behind the front bushes and went to his room, ignoring his mother and sisters in the living room. Collapsing on his bed, he felt his Sidekick start to vibrate in his back pocket.

He ignored it. It wasn't important. Not today.

_Bing_. _Bing._

"Ugh," he groaned and slapped the mattress as he sat up. His new e-mail alert was sounding, and while he could ignore his mobile for a few minutes, he didn't want to ignore his e-mail. Those other three didn't have his e-mail address anymore so it wasn't likely to be them. In fact, he was pretty sure Alex didn't even have a Facebook page. He should convince Tom to make one for him. He couldn't harass him if he couldn't find him.

Sitting at his desk he touched the mouse pad of his Macbook Air, revealing his g-mail account, and the new e-mail. It was from someone name Red. Eyebrows crinkling, he opened it and gasped as he read it.

_Do the others know what your hiding? I do. Do as I say and I won't tell._

He stared at the screen not quite believing that this was actually happening. He couldn't believe he was going through this. It was clearly the same person who had left the note in his locker. Squaring his shoulders he clicked 'Reply' and started typing.

_What do you want?_

He hesitated to send it. What was he getting into? He knew that he was probably talking with the killer at this point but he was backed into a corner. He licked his lips and pressed send before he could start acting like Max and hide under his bed at the slightest of sounds.

He waited for only a few minutes before his e-mail alert sounded again and he refreshed the page to see the new message. Opening it up, he read it and felt his heart speed up.

"Son of a-"

* * *

"Where were you?" Jack shouted when she heard Alex shut the front door.

"At the park," he told her as he toed off his shoes and walked towards the living room. He felt an inkling of concern at her teary tone. He wasn't too concerned though. Jack had a love of emotional chick flicks and was always the first person to cry. He walked into the room to see _Marley & Me_ playing on their flat screen. It was at the point where the dog was really sick and Alex sighed softly as he sat next to Jack.

She immediately grabbed his hand with her right hand and wiped her eyes with her left. He eyed the empty ice cream carton on the coffee table and knew that she had broken up with the latest guy. She was wearing her patented 'momentarily depressed' outfit of a stained, white tank top and Alex's old, black sweat pants that had been cut into shorts. She had on a pair of brown house boots that were made to look like Uggs and her long red hair was up in a messy bun. She had on no makeup and her lime green, hooded pullover was draped across her lap as if it were a blanket.

"You okay Jack?" Alex asked halfheartedly, having gone through this routine a few times before. She would spend a day, maybe a day and a half at most, like this and then she'd go buy a new cookbook and cook every recipe inside for a week straight. Not that they could ever hope to eat all of that food. Most of it would end up at the homeless shelter in downtown London. Alex was starting to think that they loved it when Jack went through a break up.

"I'll be fine," she sniffled, hazelnut eyes never leaving the screen. "I'm thinking of putting in some streaks. What do you think?"

"What color?" Alex indulged, knowing he'd never get away unless he walked her through the whole process.

"Blond," she said. "Just a few. They say it's the new flirty look."

"Hmm," he acknowledged.

"I need more girlfriends," Jack mumbled as the movie ended. She squeezed his hand before getting up to clear off her mess.

"Or a gay guy," Alex replied with a small smirk. Jack paused.

"Which reminds me. I need to call Zach," she said and Alex chuckled. He got up himself and went up to his room, knowing his work was done for the moment. He smiled more fully as he went up the stairs. There was nobody like Jack. When he got to his room, he shut the door tightly and ditched the jean jacket she had bought for him at her family reunion in Texas, laying it on the back of his desk chair. Sitting down at the desk he moved his mouse to wake the old Dell back up. A picture of an F16 popped up on the desktop and he opened up Internet Explorer.

As he was waiting for the old computer to load the internet he heard his mobile start buzzing in his jacket and he twisted around to pick it out of the pocket. The pay-as-you-go Samsung had long been a source of jokes for both Tom and Ryan. He knew it was a pretty crappy mobile but he also knew that he had a tendency to lose and/or annihilate his different devices. He was loath to pay a lot of money for something that was likely to be destroyed during a mission.

He looked at the screen and opened the new text message from Tom.

_SOS. Bobbies in the house._

He was nearly out of his chair when he heard his Yahoo! e-mail alert sound. He sat back down and opened it real quick. Not many people had this address and the alert only sounded when it was an urgent message.

The message's 'From' line said it was from someone named Red. He didn't know who that could possibly be, but he pushed it out of his mind for a moment. There was no message, just a video attachment and Alex quickly downloaded it to his movie viewer. When it finished loading he pressed play and watched closely.

The frame was extremely dark but he could tell that it was the second floor hallway of Brookland's south wing. Whoever was holding the camera walked down the darkened corridor and to the boy's bathroom. He saw a black gloved hand reach out and push the door open. Alex gasped and hit pause, trying to catch his breath. It was the bathroom from last night. He saw the black haired mannequin positioned with its head in the sink, its hands resting on the side. Alex knew that if it had been a real person, they would have been griping the sides as they fought.

The boy pressed play again and watched as the mannequin came closer. Suddenly the camera turned and he could see the mirror fully. Written in blood red letters were the words, _His pride killed him_. What the hell did that mean? The camera continued to get closer and he saw the light reflected back in the mirror. Also there was the vague outline of a person. He couldn't tell if it was a male or female. He could only barely make out the black hoodie and what looked like a very pale face. That was where the movie ended.

Alex leaned back in his chair trying to take it all in. Why would anyone send him this? Why would they even want to make a video like this or pull whatever sick prank that was supposed to be? If it was the killer-like his instincts were screaming that it was-why would they want to call attention to it after three years? They had gotten off scott-free and now they were trying to call attention to the way the scene had supposedly been. He wasn't sure if this was an exact recreation but from what he knew it was close enough.

"Alex!" Jack suddenly shouted up the stairs. He jumped up and dove for his night table where he snatched up the blue flash drive and quickly plugged it into his computer's hard drive.

"Alex! You need to come down!" Jack shouted up again as he fumbled with getting the file off of his desktop and onto the flash drive.

"I'll be there in a second!" he shouted back knowing he would sound off to her but also knowing she wouldn't come up. It seemed to take forever to download the file to the drive but when it finally went through, he deleted the file from the computer and his e-mail. Removing the drive from his computer he moved to the back of his open closet and peeled back the wallpaper to reveal a small hole in the wall. Feeling around inside his hand hit an Altoids tin and he slid the drive inside, shut the tin, and placed everything back the way it was supposed to be.

"Alex!"

"Coming!" he shouted back and darted out of his room as if it was on fire. He bounded down the stairs but came to a complete halt when he saw why he'd been called back down.

Police.

* * *

"I hate you!"

Tom ignored the sudden shout and put in his ear buds to drown out the latest fight. The police had come and gone already. It hadn't been as bad as he thought it would be but then they really didn't have many reasons to hassle him for too long. They asked some basic questions, practically the same ones as three years ago and Tom had given pretty much the same answers.

Now he was in his room, trying to ignore his parents and focus on his history paper. He turned up Wiz Khalifa's _No Sleep_ and drowned out the sounds of screaming and cuss words. He wondered if he should fire off a text to let everyone know the cops were gone. He didn't expect Ryan to show up anytime soon but Max would worry himself sick and Alex was likely already on the way over. Not that he couldn't use Alex's company right then. He was the only one who really knew what was happening with his parents and how bad the fighting sometimes got.

He heard the sound of a dish breaking as the song changed to Bon Jovi's _Livin' On a Prayer_, which thankfully played louder than the previous song and he grabbed his iPhone and turned the volume as loud as it could go.

No longer able to concentrate on homework-not that it took much to break his concentration-Tom saved his essay and opened up his internet. Logging into his e-mail account he found a new e-mail from some guy named Red. He opened it, curious, and found a link but nothing else. He clicked on the link and found himself at the Kensington and Chelsea Chronicle website. More specifically the article detailing the rate and causes of teenage suicides.

Tom gulped and pulled the ear buds out no longer concerned with drowning out screaming parents. There may not have been any specific details that would make anyone think of Tom, but he knew what it was. Someone was trying to send him a very specific message about _her_. He closed the window and then closed his laptop, feeling tears well up. He hadn't cried in years and he wasn't about to start now either.

This was probably from the same person who had left him the note in the locker room and he was done with it already. Whoever this was they were nasty and they knew too much. Nobody had dared to blame him for her suicide so why would they start now? The teen jumped up from his desk, grabbed his football and left for the team's field behind the school.

* * *

Max didn't get back to his small flat until late that night. He had spent the day in the shed after the others had left. He had sat in that plastic chair until the sun had disappeared and no light peeked through the boards any longer. He just didn't have the energy to move and he no longer had the will power to hold it all in. But he had made a promise to them and he wasn't one to go back on his promises either.

Clutching at the rosary that was usually kept under his shirt, Max prayed that nothing worse would happen. He stayed in that shed until it got cold and he was shivering violently. He remembered when they would spend all day in this park playing football and rugby, talking about girls and placing bets on who would win the world cup that next summer. This shed used to shake with laughter and in the corner where the floor had rotted out, they would hide stolen beer and cigarettes in a small hole. Marlboro was their brand. Not that Alex or Ryan had ever had one. It was probably the only thing they ever had in common.

But there was an ugly side to this shed and he knew it. It had been a long time since any of them had set foot in this place but it felt as familiar as it ever had been. He knew every board, every crooked nail, every small hole, and every tool. He knew the way it smelled after a rainstorm and how the leaves would pile up against the door in the fall. This had been their place; he could still hear their laughter at some bad joke but he could also hear the whisper of something else. A snide comment. A secret whisper. The buzz of a vibrating mobile signaling a text message none of them were ever going to read.

_He_ had ruled over them like he was a king. In fact the wheelbarrow had always been his spot. Looking back at it they should have realized what it meant. Max knew there was always something beneath the surface of their friendship, something secretive and apparently something dangerous. They were being blackmailed and he was almost certain they were being watched. And now, apparently, the killer was back. But why?

_BANG!_

Max jumped nearly as hard as his heart did. He swiveled towards the door of the shed and stood quickly. It wasn't uncommon for a stray ball to come soaring through the trees and smack into the shed. But that hadn't sounded like some football or such. It had sounded like a rock. He had heard that particular sound before as well.

He slowly got up and opened the ill-hanging door. He found the rock not far from the door but he didn't bother picking it up. He peered into the darkened trees looking for any movement but he didn't expect to see anything.

"Hello?" he called out softly. He didn't expect an answer, not really.

_Crunch. Crunch._

Max whirled around at the sound of footsteps to his left. Somebody was there, he knew it. Leaves were crunching and twigs were snapping.

"Hello!" he called out, this time much louder. "Is anybody there?"

_Crunch. Crunch. Crunch._

The footsteps were louder and closer now. Max was just about to turn tail and run when suddenly he was blinded by a bright light, most likely from a torch. He threw his hands up to block his face and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Hey! Kid!" came gruff voice. The light was lowered from his face and Max opened his eyes again. It took a moment for them to readjust but when they did he saw a large, heavy set man in a security outfit. He was holding a torch and scowling at him. "Are you a resident?"

"No," Max replied honestly. "I was visiting a friend. He lives in the complex."

"And where is he?" the man asked, nastily. Max resisted the urge to scowl and roll his eyes. This guy took his job way too seriously.

"He went home sir," Max said as politely as he could. The last thing he needed was a trespassing citation.

"Then you best be on your way son," the guy continued and Max nodded quickly, grabbing his bike and peeling out of the park before the man could change his mind. He didn't even notice the red piece of parchment taped to his handlebars until he was three blocks away. He pressed the brakes and the tires squealed as he slid to a stop on the sidewalk. He ripped the paper off of the connecter bar and hopped off his bike, not caring that it fell with a hard thud to the ground.

He flipped the folded paper open so quickly that it nearly ripped in two. The typeface was the same and so was the paper. Identical. It was from the same person.

_Cadogen Street. London SW3 2QR. A place to confess._

Max paused. What was that supposed to mean?

* * *

Alex avoided Jack's eye for the rest of the night. She was concerned he knew and when she was overly concerned she made biscuits. It was this, if nothing else, that let Alex know she was very, _very _worried. She had already made six dozen. He was starting to worry about her but he couldn't figure out what to say to make her worry less without sounding like he was hiding something.

Avoiding her eye he managed to slip back upstairs and went to his room. He logged back onto his computer and went back to his e-mail account. Maybe he was hoping for a message and maybe he was hoping not to have a message, he wasn't sure. He wanted to know what was going on and he knew he would need more than a little movie to figure it all out.

_Bzz. Bzz._

Grabbing his mobile from where he'd left it on the desk he opened the new message from Tom.

_We need to talk. Call me. Emergency. _

Alex instantly dialed the other boy's number more than a little worried. Tom rarely called a situation an emergency. In fact, Tom was the type of person who would look at an emergency and not recognize it for what it was. It only took half a ring before the shorter boy picked up.

"Hey," Tom said sounding uncertain and weary.

"What's going on?" Alex asked.

"Alex," Tom hedged and the blond stood up to pace. This conversation had already turned into a pacing type of moment.

"What happened?" he asked, determined to find out was wrong now.

"Ryan did something," Tom finally said after a sigh. Alex had a bad feeling about this. Ryan had been on his case for over a year and Alex could understand it to an extent. He and Ryan had a history with each other and not all of it was good. But Alex had always been able to handle whatever the other boy could throw at him. After all he'd been through he welcomed the normalcy of a schoolyard rivalry. However, nothing Ryan had done so far had managed to make Tom nervous. His warning bells went off.

"What did he do?" Alex asked.

"He's e-mailed something to the entire school," Tom replied.

"What did he e-mail?"

"It's a video Alex," Tom replied. "And it isn't good."

"What do you mean? What video is it?" Alex suddenly felt nervous. He had no clue what kind of video Ryan may or may not have. Either way it didn't look good.

"Did you blow up the Science Building?" Tom asked suddenly and Alex's knees nearly went out. Oh no. He sat down on his bed quickly, feeling ill. This wasn't good.

"What?" was all he could say in reply.

"Alex, Ryan sent everyone a video of you blowing up the Science Building," Tom replied. "That isn't good dude."

"Send it to me," Alex ordered, wanting to see it for himself.

"I already did," Tom replied and Alex quickly went to his computer and refreshed his internet. The new e-mail instantly popped up and Alex opened it quickly. He saw that was an amateur shot from the ground. The camera was tilted upwards and Alex was clearly visible on the roof of the school. He could barely see the clone in the background and thankfully the face was indistinguishable. The video went through the entire, horrible scene. The fight, the explosion, and the clone falling through the hole in the roof to his death. This was horrible. He looked like a murderer. He looked like a terrorist.

How the hell did Ryan get his hands on this video? And more importantly, why would he send it out to everyone? Alex wasn't stupid. He knew that Ryan had nearly every Year Ten e-mail address and it wouldn't be long before the video made its rounds through the student body and to the teachers and police. MI6 would be pissed.

Alex felt his throat tighten at how stupid Ryan was and he shook his head. Not only would he probably be kicked out of school but they would be lucky to keep this out of the press. Ryan was about to be in some serious trouble with Blunt and his people; Alex knew it and it terrified him more than his potential prison time. How the hell was he going to protect this kid? And more importantly, would he even try?

* * *

"Oh my god!"

Max couldn't help but voice his reaction to the video. _Alex_. The teen could barely process what he was seeing. How could Alex of all people not only blow up a building but kill someone? And how had Ryan known about it? Why would he send it out to everyone? Didn't he know that something like this would make the police think that Alex was the killer?

Max grabbed his mobile and quickly dialed Tom's number.

"Did you see it?" was the boy's answer.

"Yeah," Max said. "What is going on? Is this real?"

"I think so," Tom replied. "I talked to Alex but he didn't really give me anything. I think it was self defense though."

"How do you know?" Max asked, uncertain. He hated to think that Alex could be capable of cold-hearted murder but this video was awfully damaging. What was he supposed to think?

"Because I know," Tom said vaguely and Max had a feeling that he wasn't about to get any sort of honest answer. "Max, we're in some serious trouble."

"What do you mean?"

"Ryan didn't shoot that video," Tom told him. "Someone else did."

"Do you think it was the same person?" Max asked, concerned.

"Yeah," he replied. "I think we're being stalked."

Max didn't answer. It was too scary a thought.

* * *

**SUNDAY**

Alex didn't sleep well that night. He was considering his options and none of them seemed good. But when had they ever? The way he saw it, he had three courses of action that he could take. He could leave Brookland on his own; he could wait to get kicked out; or he could be a little more proactive and bargain with Blunt in the hopes that he could make the entire incident disappear. None of these options seemed like they would pan out very well.

Not only that but he still had to figure out what to do with Ryan. No matter what he did MI6 would be all over the other boy the instant they found out about the video and that wouldn't take long. Alex was stuck. He needed MI6 to keep the video out of the press and MI6 needed him to keep Ryan quiet. Unfortunately for his estranged friend, Ryan could very well be charged for leaking confidential government files. To high school students, no less.

And then there was the entire matter of where the video had come from in the first place. This wouldn't be the first time some nosey person had gotten too close to Alex's secret and it probably wouldn't be the last either. But this time seemed infinitely worse. His two pasts were crashing together and he felt powerless to stop it. As much as he hated to admit it, he would eventually have to talk to Blunt.

Crap.

Alex finally gave up on sleep at around six in the morning knowing he had a lot of homework to do. Also laying around in bed wasn't going to solve his latest Ryan related problem. The other boy had long been a source of stress for Alex, even before the murder. The two had been very close friends but they had a tendency to rub each other wrong way. Ryan was a bully; there was no denying that. And there was also no denying what Alex thought of bullies. After all, he had once beaten up several of them for picking on Tom.

So the two seemed like natural enemies. Alex hated the ugly side of Ryan and Ryan couldn't understand the moral code Alex lived by. It was really no surprise that the two of them had difficulties getting along. But their conflict had never been this bad before. Alex knew there was no way Ryan could fully understand what he had just done but that didn't really matter. He had done it, and that was the crux of the whole problem. He had deliberately tried to destroy Alex for no reason Alex could readily come up with. It was betrayal and he wasn't about to put up with it. He would have to confront Ryan eventually. That much he knew for certain.

* * *

**MONDAY**

Ryan avoided his old friends as best he could. He had spotted Alex momentarily but had successfully managed to duck down a flight of stairs before the other boy could get too close. He knew he looked a coward and he felt like it too but there didn't seem to be much he could do. People were smiling at him and nodding at him in hallways as he passed. Not that they didn't do that every day but there was a special meaning behind it today.

They had all seen the video he had sent out in a school wide e-mail. Administration hadn't seemed to catch on yet but Ryan knew it was only a matter of time. Some little do-gooder would send it to the Headmaster as a heads up and both he and Alex would be dragged down to the office. He would have to explain how he'd gotten his hands on the video and why he was only now stepping forward with it. Alex would probably be arrested.

He felt bad. Legitimately. He and Alex had been best friends for nine years and now he was purposefully trying to send him to prison for seemingly no reason. But there was always a reason and Ryan couldn't just tell what his was. There was just no way. He wasn't brave enough and he knew it.

Safely making it to his locker before English, Ryan seriously contemplated faking ill and getting out of the rest of this nerve wracking day. He'd never felt so jumpy before in his life. He managed to get the right combination on his third try and swung the locker door open. He then promptly cursed under his breath. Another piece of folded parchment paper was sitting on top of his books and he snatched it up.

Opening it he found it was still written in that same font. It annoyed him for some reason.

_Good job. But you're not done._

Ryan hated the way that was worded but, again, what could he do? He had secrets to keep just like the rest of them and he wasn't about to blow it for a couple of guys he hadn't talked to in three years. He wasn't a sentimental person and it wasn't like Alex was so innocent. The kid had blown up a building and managed to kill someone in the process. And, he'd gotten away with it. Maybe that was why he was suddenly so nervous. When Alex had just been loser Alex, Ryan didn't think twice-or even once-about saying something rude or nasty. But if Alex was actually capable of doing what the video claimed he did then Ryan was now playing a completely different game.

Alex had a reason-a legitimate-reason to come after him.

The sound of the bell cut through Ryan's morose thoughts like a knife, making him jump. He crumpled the new note and shoved it into his jeans pocket. He slammed the locker door shut, found whatever courage he had left, and walked to English as if he hadn't done what he'd done. When he got there Tom glared at him and Max looked at him warily. But Alex was nowhere to be seen.

"Looks like you ran Rider out of school," Jon whispered as he sat down in his normal seat. Ryan only grunted in reply. He and Jon hung out often; they ran in the same circle. But Ryan wouldn't go so far as to say they were friends. Jon was really more of his lackey. "Nice job, mate."

"Thanks," he replied softly, not wanting to be congratulated but knowing he had to at least appear to accept it. He looked over to Sara and she smiled at him. She wouldn't say anything about it though. He knew she didn't really care about Alex's existence one or another and she wasn't about to get in the middle of anything.

He made it through English, Chemistry, and Algebra. And then thankfully, it was lunch time and he could just sit and not think about anything more disturbing than Jon's latest stunt. He'd been pushing some poor loser around for nearly two weeks now and the kid had finally given in and done Jon's homework for him. It was a clichéd move in Ryan's opinion but Jon wasn't one for originality.

When the next class bell rang he felt as if he just might make it through this blasted day. But when he got to gym he found a stranger talking to the Coach and he suddenly felt ill. The man was a police officer, there was no doubt about that. Even though he was dressed in normal street clothes his badge was hanging around his neck and Ryan could see his holstered weapon under his jacket from clear across the gymnasium. He pushed on though, hoping the man's presence had nothing to do with him. He wasn't that lucky.

"Coswell," the coach called out as soon as he spotted the boy. "Get over here."

Ryan momentarily froze, not wanting to go over but he managed it.

"Hello Ryan," the stranger greeted. "I'm Inspector Hartwell with London P.D. I need you to come with me."

"Why?" Ryan asked.

"I think you know why." Ryan nodded and allowed the man to lead him out of the gymnasium and down to the main office. However, instead of going into the Headmaster's office or into one of the counselor's offices he was led into the main conference room. When he got there the first person he saw was Alex, looking tight lipped and tense. Sitting next to him was another man Ryan didn't know in a nice, but nondescript, suit. He didn't look too happy either.

"Sit down, Mr. Coswell," he said stiffly and Ryan sat next to Alex. The entire table was empty but despite avoiding the other boy for the entire day he felt better sitting closer to him than further away. It was an odd feeling but it was how it was. Alex radiated toughness and Ryan was hoping to soak some of it up.

"Coswell, I'm going to cut straight to the point," The man in the suit said. "You have managed to put us in a very interesting position." Ryan just stared at him, knowing the man wasn't finished talking. "That video you sent out was not meant to be for public viewing."

_Well, duh_, Ryan thought. It was a murder caught on tape. Of course it wasn't supposed to be public. But why would these guys care about what he had done? If anything this Inspector should be thanking him. After all, he _had_ just released a pretty good piece of evidence.

Ryan's thoughts were interrupted when a thick stack of papers were dropped onto the table in front him. He jumped and stared at them. Then he felt bile rise into his throat as he saw the title of those documents.

_Official Secrets Act_.

"What have you dragged me into?" Ryan whispered to Alex, unable to speak any louder through his sudden shock and extreme fear.

"I didn't drag you into anything," Alex replied, sounding angrier than Ryan had ever heard him. It was suddenly very clear that Ryan had done more than betray Alex's trust by sending out that e-mail. The Official Secrets Act was no joke, he knew that.

"You weren't really in rehab were you?" Ryan asked quietly, pieces suddenly falling into place. Alex hadn't been sick, hadn't been grieving or any of those other things all the rumors had said he'd been doing. Alex had been doing something else and while Ryan didn't know what it was he was suddenly right in the middle of it. Did Red know? Was that the point of this all along? To expose Alex?

"No, Ryan," Alex replied not nearly as quietly as the other boy. "Sign the papers." Alex handed him a pen. "Now." The lighter blond took the pen but hesitated over the signature line.

"What happens if I don't?" he asked and looked at the two strangers.

"You'll be in prison by the end of the day," the Inspector said. "By signing these papers you will agree to never again release any videos, photographs, documents, or any other sort of media into the public domain. You will not talk about Alex Rider to any sort of media outlet, you will not discuss the video you sent out, and will not discuss this meeting or the document with anyone, including your parents."

Ryan gulped. Holy crap, what had he stepped into?

"Ryan, you need to sign the papers," Alex said sounding as if he was coaxing the other boy. Ryan gazed at him and then shook his head but he put pen to paper and signed his name.

The man in the suit quickly took them and put them back into his briefcase.

"Where did you get that video?" he asked as he snapped the clasps shut.

"It was sent to me," Ryan replied, unwilling to lie to whoever this was. He wasn't with the police, that much was clear. If it had just been the Inspector he might have held back but this other man was something he didn't want to mess with.

"Who sent it to you?" the suit continued. Ryan hesitated. That was something he didn't want to talk about, not even under whatever threat this man held. He glanced at Alex, who rescued him.

"We aren't sure who has been trying to contact us," the other boy said and Ryan couldn't help but notice how professional he sounded. It was rather disturbing. "You know that."

"Hmm," the suit replied. "Well, then I'm finished here. Alex, we'll be in touch." With that, the suit left.

"Can I go?" Ryan finally managed after what seemed to be a extremely long, tense silence.

"Yes," the Inspector told him and Ryan was out of his chair and halfway down the hall before he even considered asking any sort of questions about what exactly he was being forced to keep secret. The entire ordeal hadn't lasted more than five minutes but Ryan knew it would be a five minutes he would never forget.

* * *

"I think you scared him," Alex said, looking the Inspector dead in the eye. The man didn't seem as if he was done with him yet and in all honesty Alex wasn't done with him either.

"He should be scared," Hartwell replied. "He did, after all, just stumble onto one of Britain's best kept secrets and released it to the entire student body."

"He didn't know what he was doing," Alex replied, inclined to defend his old friend even if he did still want to kill him. "It's not his fault that this guy sent him the video."

"Why would he even release it?" the man asked. "Aren't you two friends?"

"Not really," Alex said truthfully. "Not that it's any of your business." The Inspector nodded at that but didn't seem inclined to really let it go.

"You know Cub," the man said. "When they said that I would be the one to handle all high security cases in London I didn't quite expect this."

"What did you expect Eagle?" the teen asked, curious. "It's not like anything our companies are involved in are normal." The ex-soldier nodded his head in agreement and then dropped the subject.

"So Cub, how is the civilian life treating you?" he asked. Alex was a little thrown at the seemingly random question but answered anyway.

"It's good," he said completely truthfully. "Can I ask why you're not with the SAS anymore?" He couldn't help but be curious as to how Eagle-one of the better soldiers in K-Unit in his own opinion-had ended up being a cop.

"Injury," the man replied. "I've got a piece of shrapnel buried in my leg that makes me unfit for duty."

"Oh," Alex said, sympathetically. He knew that for the men in his training unit their jobs were a way of life and not the punishment he'd felt it was. "I'm sorry." The man shrugged, uninterested.

"It's fine," the man replied. "I joined the force as soon as I could which was only three weeks ago, by the way. MI6 asked me to field all calls concerning their agents. You'd be surprised how often they end up in jail." Alex could believe that remembering when he'd been thrown into jail for dropping a drug dealer's boat into the brand new police headquarters. "I read about the Skoda incident by the way." Alex blushed.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Eagle said. "Listen up Cub. I don't want to get another call about you."

"You think I want you get another call about me?" Alex asked, somewhat offended.

"No, I don't," the soldier replied. "But I'm letting you know now, I don't want any more calls about you and you're little friends leaking government secrets. Understand?"

"I understand," Alex replied stiffly, the friendliness they'd had just moments before now completely gone.

"Go to class," Eagle ordered and Alex did just that.

* * *

Well, hoped you liked it. Just so everyone is clear, the man in the suit was Fox. K-Unit will start to pop up a little more from now on. And you might actually find out who was killed next chapter. Sorry for withholding so much detail but I think it makes a better story. And better reviews. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

Probably the worst part of the job, Rosten thought, was the behind the scenes work he was forced to do. When he had informed MI6 that he would take care of any agents who happened to find themselves behind bars he hadn't realized he would actually have to do it. Despite the fact that spies had a tendency to end up in jail, he had never actually thought that he'd see one. Not in his station and certainly not so soon. He'd only been there three weeks after all.

But today had been the most insanity filled day he'd had so far. His connections in the government had let him jump to a high ranking position. They also allowed him to bypass those pesky gun laws and restrictions. Knowing what he may or may not find himself in, Rosten preferred the feeling of the cold, hard metal at his side. The things he had seen on the battlefield and the enemies he had made meant that not having a gun would drive him crazy.

He was too paranoid. He had too many nightmares. He knew too much about war, death, and destruction.

But he also knew the government far better than his current colleagues. He had met the head of MI6-Blunt-only once in his life and it was enough. He hated the intelligence services for the simple fact that they lied too often and had too good of a poker face. Seeing Fox-Ben-again had been nice. Discovering that he had pretty much gone over to the dark side was not so nice. MI6 did a lot of horrible things to a lot of people, both good and bad. They had to. It was their job to do whatever it took to keep the country safe.

Rosten could only halfway respect it. As a soldier he understood the mentality of pushing the limits to get the job done. But, as a soldier, he found anyone who played with the proverbial line a vile being. Cub was one of those people as much as he was a victim of one of those people. No teenager had the ability or the balls to volunteer for such a job. He knew that Cub was ultimately a sensible person. But he also knew that somewhere along the way, Cub had crossed the line at least once. It was obvious. It was why Rosten had suddenly been handed the kid's file and told to make the video disappear before MI6 did.

He felt sorry for that one boy-Coswell. He had stepped onto a field he hadn't known existed and was suddenly playing a game he had never heard of with professional players. It didn't bode well for the boy. But that was another thing that had been bothering Rosten all day. Where had the video come from? Cub had let him know that Coswell hadn't made the video. So who had? And, most importantly, why bother releasing it to a school when releasing it to the press would be infinitely more damaging?

Considering the subject of the video, Rosten was led to believe that the person who had released it was an old enemy of Cub's or maybe even an enemy of the boy's dead uncle. It could simply be an enemy of MI6 (they had plenty) who had gotten lucky when such a scandal had fallen into their lap. But again, if MI6 was truly the target, the video would have been released to the press. So what was the point?

Rosten didn't believe for an instant that this was about bullying or anything similar. He'd read Cub's school file. He was a good student, a football player, was on the rowing team, and even dabbled in drama. Even on paper Rosten could tell that the kid would be popular enough to avoid the darker side of high school. Even Coswell had seemed to trust Cub on a level that Rosten would only associate with friendship.

The two boys clearly had a history, one that had ended horribly. If Rosten could figure out what that was he may be able to find the source of the video. Normally, he would have simply gotten a warrant and hacked into Coswell's email account. But this investigation was off the books and he couldn't risk getting caught doing an illegal search. MI6 wouldn't bail him out; that he had been told explicitly. There could be absolutely no connection between his work and the intelligence services. It was too much of a risk and too many breaches of security could occur. Not to mention the scandal.

With no nerdy tech guy to help him out, he would have to find his way into the boy's email account another way. He was just starting to contemplate how that would occur when his desk phone started ringing. He quickly snatched it up, glad for the distraction from a train of thought that was leading him nowhere.

"Rosten," he said and even to his own ears he sounded grumpy.

"I need a bailout."

He squeezed his eyes shut and tried his damn hardest not to snap angrily at the person on the other end. They had told him that getting such a call was supposed to be rare. Clearly their definitions of rare were vastly different. He considered buying Jones a dictionary so that she could learn the proper definition of the word.

"Location?" he asked.

Taking down the offered information before hanging up, Rosten quickly shoved through transfers. The agent on the other end would need to be brought to his own station before he could shove through a release and get whatever charges dropped, as long they had something to do with work and not play. MI6 didn't break their men out of jail for disorderly drunkenness.

It was easy to get the man transferred to Rosten's custody.

And he wasn't surprised to see who the man was either. Forced into a chair by his desk, the arrested soldier still had his hands bound by zip ties. His hair was longer than it should have been if he was on active duty. Clearly was working some sort of angle...or he wasn't working at all.

"Wolf," he greeted quietly so as not to be overheard.

"Eagle."

"What did you do to get arrested?"

"Classified," the other man replied and Rosten barely held back an eye roll. Of course it was. When wasn't it?

"Of course it is." Turning back to his computer he began to go through all of the red tape that was keeping Wolf from being released without charges. He didn't say anything to his old training teammate and Wolf didn't say anything to him either. At least, not for close to an hour.

"I heard about your leg," Wolf said, clearly trying to offer some sort of sympathy in the only way that any of them knew how.

"Thanks," Rosten replied and they again lapsed into silence.

"How's the new job?"

The soldier turned Inspector just gave him a look. Wolf held up his hands to ward off an onslaught of verbal attacks knowing his attempt was unappreciated and ultimately unwanted.

"Just asking," he mumbled. Rosten sighed heavily.

"It's going crappy," he replied, surprising even himself with the sudden honesty. Wolf's eyebrows shot up but he didn't say anything to that. "What's your last name?"

"Alvarez," the soldier told him and Rosten began filling in all the pertinent information as he began to weed through the paperwork needed to get the man released from custody.

The next few hours went on in relative silence. Wolf only spoke when he had to answer a question and Rosten only spoke when he needed to ask one. Wolf could tell the other man was thoroughly distracted but he had no clue what he could be distracted about. Finally he just asked.

"Something got you all in twist?" Wolf asked. "Or is it just me?"

"Just a case I'm working on," Rosten gave in. As much as he knew it was a bad idea to tell Wolf anything about what was going on with Cub he really did need someone to bounce ideas off of. He couldn't think straight.

"What's it on?"

"Do you remember Cub?" he asked and he knew instantly that Wolf did, indeed, remember Cub. He could tell by the way the man's face went decidedly blank.

"What about Cub?"

"He's in some trouble," Rosten said.

"What kind of trouble? SAS trouble? Or teenaged bullshit trouble?"

"A little of both," Rosten told him and then gave him a brief outline of what had taken place over the last five days. The email, the Coswell kid, the video that could do some serious damage if left in the wrong hands. Wolf wouldn't tell anyone about it, of that Rosten was certain. The soldier took on a thoughtful look and it took him nearly two minutes to respond.

"You just need to get into Coswell's emails?" he asked.

"Yes," Rosten said. "Know anyone who can get me in."

"I can," Wolf responded. He then held up his hands which were still bound by the zip ties. "Just get me out these things." Rosten complied and soon enough Wolf was in his chair and hacking away into the kid's G-mail account. Apparently, it wasn't that difficult and Rosten paid close attention in case he ever had to do something like that again. Wolf quickly shifted through the inbox which consisted of spam mail, a party invitation, a friend request rerouted from Facebook, and then a conversation between Coswell and someone known only as 'Red'.

_Do the others know what you're hiding? Do as I say and I won't tell._

Rosten stole the controls from Wolf at that point and quickly opened Coswell's reply.

_What do you want?_

The second message from Red had come in shortly after that and Rosten saw the video attachment at the bottom.

_Send this to everyone in the school. You're so keen on destroying Alex Rider. Let's see how far you'll go._

So the target was Cub specifically and not MI6. Unfortunately, that still didn't narrow down the possibilities of where the video came from and who would send it. Coswell hadn't replied to that message and after a quick look in the kid's outbox the Inspector found that it had taken Coswell all of three minutes to work up the nerve to send that video to everyone in the school. Either the teen really did hate Cub or he had something very big that needed to be hidden. The question was, which one was it?

"Who do think Red is?" Wolf asked quietly, cutting into Rosten's thoughts.

"I'm not sure," Rosten replied a little blankly. "Do me a favor and get into Cub's account."

"It's probably protected."

"Not his personal one," Rosten replied. "MI6 doesn't send him things over the computer. That much I know." Rosten quickly gave Wolf the information he had about Cub from the kid's file and soon enough the soldier had hacked his way into that account as well. There was nothing in Cub's inbox and there was nothing of note in his outbox and saved emails either. But there _was_ something of note in the kid's trash.

Rosten was honestly surprised the kid would let something like this be so easy to find. Either the teen was getting sloppy or he'd been in a hurry. The Inspector believed it was the latter.

The video was probably the creepiest thing Rosten had ever seen. Clearly someone was hoping to rattle Cub to his core. Why else would they send the kid a video of a murder scene?

"Is that kid really dead?" Wolf asked as the camera panned onto the teen floating in the sink and then up to the mirror where the words 'His pride killed him' were written in blood red letters. "Or is this some sort of really sick prank?"

"No," Rosten said. "I think that kid really is dead."

"What are these kids mixed up in?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "Do you have anywhere be in the next week or so?"

"Not really," Wolf replied. "Why?"

"I'm going to need your help."

/

He met Wolf at a cafe the next day. He had been up all night trying to piece together what they had seen in Cub's email. It had been disturbing but Rosten had seen worse. All it took was a Google search to find out what had happened in Brookland three years ago.

His name had been Cole Atkins and he had apparently been murdered. Brutally. In fact, the coroner's report Rosten dug up stated that Cole had been struck forcefully on the side of his head and then drowned. There were no defensive wounds and the coroner concluded that he had been taken by surprise and had been unconscious when he'd finally been killed. Rosten supposed that there was some small amount of mercy in that.

The investigator's report on the matter was a long winded explanation of how he'd come onto dead end after dead end. The police had spoken to Cub and all of his friends. Apparently they had all been very close to the victim and were actually suspects at one point when the head investigator caught one of the boys in a lie. Coswell had told police that none of them had seen Cole Atkins the night he'd been killed but as the investigator had pieced together the boy's last night on Earth he had found that not only had Cole and Coswell seen each other that night, they had fought. About what, nobody knew. Coswell never let on that he'd been caught in the lie and the investigator had never been able to prove that fight had actually happened. Everything was hearsay and rumors. It was a dead end investigation before it ever even began.

But whoever the murderer was, was back and looking for something. They had an end goal that went beyond getting away with murder. Rosten believed that the answer lied in the motive. But they wouldn't have a motive until they had a suspect; a _real_ suspect.

"Where do you think we should start?" Wolf asked. Rosten was a little suspicious as to why Wolf was so willing to jump onto the investigation. He was pretty sure that it was simply because it involved Cub. Everyone was usually abnormally nosey when it came to Cub. The boy was fascinating in the best of times and a complete mystery in the worst.

"There's something going on with these boys," Rosten said. "Whoever sent Cub and Coswell those videos is either the murderer or knows who the murderer is. MI6 thinks they know too much. We have to operate under the assumption that they know exactly what they were sending out when they forced Coswell to release that video of Cub."

"Do you think this 'Red' person has contacted all of them?" Wolf asked. Rosten shrugged.

"It's possible," he replied. "I want you to keep an eye on all their accounts. I'll put you on the case as a consultant."

"Sounds good," Wolf said and took a bite of the doughnut he'd bought with his coffee. "Are you going to talk to Cub again?"

"Eventually," Rosten hedged, unwilling to make a commitment as to what he would do. He needed more information before he tried to confront anyone. He needed something real. And the last thing he wanted was to tip off Red to what they were doing. Not only could they lose a murderer but they could possibly lose the leak in MI6.

/

Max looked up at the building that the note had sent him to. He looked down at the piece of red parchment and sighed heavily. Red had sent him to a church. A Catholic Church. The message started to make more sense.

_A place to confess_.

But Max wasn't sure what it was he was supposed to confess. There was plenty to tell; in fact, he could write a book about all of bad things he'd done and let other people do. Being friends with Ryan usually meant that you were partial to an act of bullying. Even if you just stood there. And everyone in Brookland knew that Cole had been the biggest bully of them all.

But they had been friends and he had been good to them so there had been little reason for them to step outside of their comfort zone and put him in his place. Not to say that Alex had never told Cole to stop. Alex hated bullies; he'd once beaten up two bullies who had been after Tom. Cole and Alex fought all the time. It used to make Max horribly nervous that one day they would say or do something that would forever drive a wedge in their group. And it had eventually happened.

Max sighed again. He finally worked up his courage to go inside the church.

But he didn't speak to anyone. He simply sat down in one of the pews halfway down to the altar. The priest was going in and out, doing things that Max didn't really understand. After all, he had never been one for religion. What was he doing here? What was the purpose of sending him to confession? Was Red hoping that once he'd talked to a priest he'd be more willing to tell everyone what had happened with Cole? Not to mention the suicide of that one girl. The suicide they'd caused.

He shook his head vehemently. _Don't go there._

"Son, are you alright?"

Max's head snapped up at the question and he looked at the priest who seemed to be legitimately concerned with what was going through the teen's head. The boy opened his mouth to say that he was fine but he couldn't get the words out. It seemed wrong to lie in here. The priest sat down in the pew in front of him and turned his body so that he could look at Max head on. The man raised his dark eyebrows at the boy expectantly.

"I'm not entirely sure why I'm here," Max told him truthfully.

"Is there anything you'd like to talk about?" the man asked. "Something on your mind?"

"I have plenty on my mind," Max said. He paused, unsure of how he should continue. "What's your name?"

"Father Reynolds," the man replied.

"I'm Max," he said and held out his hand to shake. The Father eagerly shook it but when they broke apart he looked at Max just as expectedly. Apparently, the Father expected him to divulge everything. Max wasn't sure but he was fairly certain you were only obligated to do that if you were in that little box with the screen. The confession booth, he thought it was called. Max didn't want to go in there and risk feeling claustrophobic.

"What's going through your mind, Max?"

"Is it wrong to tell a lie in order to protect someone?" Max spit out suddenly. The Father looked at him with a slightly confused expression.

"What do you mean?"

"Is a lie still bad if you only tell one to protect your friends?" he asked again not entirely sure how to say it any clearer.

"Like a white lie?"

"No," Max said. He most certainly was _not_ worried about a little white lie. "I mean a real lie. Something bad."

"Are you in danger, son?" the priest asked and this time Max couldn't even look at him. Was he in danger? Logic would say yes. The killer was back and if Cole was killed for the reasons that Max thought then they were all in danger. But what if he was wrong? What if they were safer with Max keeping his mouth shut and instead he told people the truth? It was hard, really hard, to know what the right call was. He wished he could talk to Alex about it. Alex would know what to do.

With that thought he found the strength to finally answer the man.

"No," he said firmly and then stood. He left the Church without another word and without even deigning to look back.

/

Alex stared at his closet door as if he could see through the wood, past the wallpaper, into the little tin, and see the video stored on the flash drive. It was bothering him. Why would the killer film the crime scene? Why take that much a risk unless they were completely and totally insane? Was it meant to be some sort of trophy? Then why would they send it to Alex?

Nothing about anything from the last couple of years was making any sort of sense. Alex thought to back when it had first happened. When Cole had first been killed. It had been horrible and terrifying. Fingers were being pointed, rumors were started, and Alex and his friends had been under intense suspicion from everyone they knew. Cole had been a mean person; he'd been a bully. But he and Alex had been friends for such a long time that by the time Cole's true colors had started to come out it wasn't as simple as just standing up to him and making him stop.

He hadn't been some cowardly punk that Alex could beat up in a bike shed and then everything would be better. The situation was completely different. How did you deal with someone who was practically you're brother when he turned so cold and ugly? No one was even sure as to what had brought on the sudden change. After all, Cole hadn't always been cold and demeaning. He hadn't always thought himself a king. He used to be nice; compassionate even. There was no obvious event in the other boy's life that had made him so utterly damaged. Whatever secret had changed Cole, he'd taken it to the grave. Or, more likely, someone had made sure he'd taken it to the grave.

Alex went through what he knew about everything that had happened that year. They had been thirteen years old, relishing in the new found freedom that your teenaged years brought. They'd thought they had known everything about life and love and even about each other. But Alex knew deep down that while they had been extremely close-almost untouchable in their closeness-the five of them had always held something back from one another. They had all kept their little secrets and Cole had been the worst.

He had caught Cole in a lie that year. It had been small but the effect was damaging. Tom had fallen pretty hard for a new transfer student, a real pretty girl named Anita. And she had seemed interested herself; always flirty, always smiling. Alex hadn't seen Tom that excited about another person since his parents had started fighting about custody arrangements. Everyone at school had known that it was only a matter of time before Tom asked Anita to the Spring Formal. And everyone expected her to say yes.

That was until Cole had ditched them one Friday night claiming his mother was extra pissy that week and wouldn't let him go out. Alex had gone to see a movie with Jack and as the two of them walked out of the theatre the blond boy had seen Cole and Anita at the ticket booth. Holding hands.

Alex had immediately told Tom and the ensuing fight had been legendary in Brookland. Tom, Alex, and Cole never got the chance to heal their broken friendship. Anita had died six weeks later and Cole had died four months after that.

/

Wolf kept a constant eye on the email accounts Eagle had given him. It was simple enough. The security on personal accounts were elementary to an experienced hacker such as himself and it didn't take much to get past their passwords and inject the program he used when spying on state enemies. It would allow Wolf to pull up their computer screens anytime he wanted and watch what they doing in real time.

He sat on his worn out leather couch with the telly on mute and his laptop balanced on his thighs and watched as Cub did a Google search on the contents of a cell's cytoplasm. Clearly, this was for homework. The man took another sip of his beer and scratched at the cut on his arm. He'd gotten it in a bar fight. The same bar fight that had led to him getting arrested. He was just glad that Eagle hadn't bothered to make sure that Wolf was on duty when he'd been arrested. If his former training mate would have crossed all the t's and doted all the i's Wolf would be reporting to a hearing right about now. But Eagle had been far too distracted by what was happening with Cub and this supposed leak in MI6.

Wolf had his doubts that the leak had anything to do with MI6. The company more than likely had missed something in their cover up of the science building explosion. It made much more sense to think that the same person that had made the video of the crime scene was also the same person who had made the video of Cub blowing up school property. Which explained why the tape was only surfacing now and in such a roundabout way too. Whoever it was clearly wanted to hit Cub where it hurt the most.

Wolf thought about what he'd seen in Coswell's account. The small conversation he'd had with Red and the complete and utter lack of concern of what he was about to do to Cub. Coswell had something worth keeping a secret; so did Cub. And Wolf was willing to put money on the fact that the other two boys involved in the murder investigation were also hiding something.

Bored with Cub's biology homework, Wolf flipped over to another boy's email account. This one was named Tom Harris and he was apparently quite close to Cub if the short teen's Facebook was to be believed. There were a ridiculous amount of pictures of the two of them. Wolf could easily infer that this was Cub's closest friend, possibly his only real friend. The soldier was easily able to crack the kid's password. After all, 1-2-3-4-p-a-s-s-w-o-r-d was the worst password anyone could come up with. Wolf actually bothered to roll his eyes at it, it was so stupid.

This kid had many different emails in his inbox. Most of them were spam, a few were for online mailing lists and subscriptions, and a few others were from friends and family. Wolf didn't dare click on anything that hadn't already been opened. He didn't want the teen thinking someone had hacked the account. That would just make him want to hide things.

It took only a few minutes to find the email from Red in the trash. Apparently, none of these kids thought they really needed to cover their tracks. But since it made his job in all this easier, he didn't feel as if he should mentally scold them.

This time, Red had simply sent an article. Something on teen suicide. It didn't name anyone specifically, it was just talking about causes and statistics. Nothing was incriminating but if this Red person thought it was important enough to send it, then something must of happened. So he started up his own Google search and typed in "suicide+teen+Brookland". He got many different hits; most of them concerning teen suicides that had taken place in Brooklyn, New York. But buried on the fifth page was a little blurb of an article concerning a teenage girl from Brookland School. She had apparently jumped off of a bridge and into a creek. The creek wasn't normally dangerous; in fact, kids jumped off that bridge and into that creek all the time. Mostly on dares.

But this girl had caught it at the right time. A big storm had caused the creek to swell and she had been dragged down into the undertow for nearly three miles before finally being washed ashore. Wolf pondered that. If she had really been distraught enough to commit suicide wouldn't she have chosen something that she was sure would work. The bridge was obviously popular with the local hooligans. She'd been in the neighborhood long enough to know that she would survive that. Except when the creek was swollen and the current was too fast. That knowledge was something a long time local would know. That was something a kid who had been warned away from the creek at certain times of the year would know.

Either the girl had happened to know the danger, or someone else had sent her over the side knowing she probably wouldn't survive. Wolf found the suicide fishy. Especially since it was coming from the same person who had probably already killed another teen from the same school. Were the two connected? There was also the possibility that whoever was sending these messages was not the killer, but was trying to figure out who was. What if the killer was one of Cub's friends? Wolf was almost inclined to think it might be Cub. Who knew what the kid was capable of. He had been tough enough to make it through Brecon Beacons and all the other crap that MI6 had thrown his way.

The soldier wasn't stupid enough to think that Cub hadn't ever been pushed into hurting someone else when it meant his own survival. Was this where that coldhearted poker face had started? Wolf knew that Cub would have the foresight to send himself threatening messages as well. He would know that the second he released the video of the explosion that MI6 would become involved. But that led to the original question of who had shot the video. There was no way that Cub would have the foresight to shoot that type of video for the sole purpose of a sting operation nearly a year and a half later. The kid was good, but he wasn't Dumbledore.

Besides, based on the movement of the camera Wolf knew that a person had been holding that camera. It hadn't been mounted somewhere. So if it was Cub behind the messages he clearly wasn't behind the murder and if Cub was Red he also had a partner. But the second Wolf finished that line of thought he realized that while it would make a good story there was absolutely no proof to it. Plus, it read like fiction even in his own head.

He decided to operate under the assumption that the message was coming from outside of these three boys. Eagle had dug up another friend from the investigation but Red hadn't sent anything to him. Which wasn't to say that he wasn't getting messages. They just weren't electronically sent. Wolf made a note to keep an eye on text messages as well. If he was a blackmailer-maybe investigator-possibly murderer he would use texts. He'd be able to reach his marks much quicker. After all, everyone knew that teenagers had a weird love relationship with their mobiles.

Wolf decided that he needed to meet with Eagle again. The Inspector would know where to go from here. After all, he was actually trained for this. If they needed a sharp shooter, then Wolf would take lead.

/

Just so you guys know, the two men that came to Brookland at the end of the last Chapter were Fox and Eagle. Eagle is Rosten. And Wolf is now on the case. If I can manage to bring in Snake in a realistic manner I will. Thanks for all of your support and sorry it took a while to get this chapter out. Life's been busy.


	4. Chapter 4

Alex wasn't sure why Max had wanted to meet him at the cafe down the street from Brookland. A lot of kids visited here after school. It wasn't too fashionable but it wasn't a dump either. The coffee was good enough but more importantly it was cheap. Alex preferred the tea which was even cheaper and perhaps the best he'd ever had for that price. He hadn't been here in a while. It was too awkward for him to come alone with that many prying eyes and Tom hadn't wanted to hang out with anyone recently.

So perhaps the only reason he'd agreed to meet with Max was because the larger boy had suggested Mel's Cafe. Alex sipped his tea and glanced at his mobile, pulling up the text message Max had sent him with the date and time. He wanted to make sure he was actually there on the right day, at the right time.

Max was late. That made Alex's left leg start to bounce up and down in nervousness. It was utterly ridiculous considering he was meeting a kid he'd known nearly his entire life and not some girl for a first date or even an MI6 agent. But after everything that had happened to him during his year with Blunt and his people he couldn't help but feel that something was off every time someone was more than a minute off schedule. It was something he was working on.

He sighed in relief when he saw Max finally turn the corner and enter the cafe a few seconds later. The other boy stopped and glanced around, searching for Alex. He saw him in the corner, conveniently placed so he could see a majority of the street. Max came over without bothering to order anything at the counter and Alex doubted he would have anything during this visit.

The taller boy looked horrible in Alex's opinion. There were dark creases under his eyes and he looked abnormally pale. Either he wasn't getting enough sleep or he was sick. Alex didn't see any sign of fever and Max's walk was straight and controlled, just like always. They had been friends long enough for the ex-spy to know that meant Max was severely lacking in some sort of restful sleep.

"Hi," Max said shyly as he sat down. Alex looked him in the eye and took another drink of his tea before bothering to answer. He knew that Max had been holding things back for awhile. He had questioned the other boy a few days ago in the corridor at school only to have Max avoid answering with a panicky excuse about a drama rehearsal.

"Is there something you wanted?" Alex asked and even to his own ears it sounded cold. But he was past caring. He'd been getting text messages from Red for nearly fifty-two hours and each one was getting more and more unnerving. He hadn't been blackmailed into doing anything like he was certain Ryan had been but he could feel it coming. There would come a point when whoever this was got bored with simply stalking and decided to act. Alex was tired of being on edge and for the first time he felt a deep seated need to punch someone into unconsciousness.

"Has Red been texting you too?" Max asked.

"Of course," Alex replied as it shouldn't have been a surprise that they were all receiving some sort of message. And in all honesty it shouldn't have considering they'd had a meeting about this sort of thing. "Why? Is it bothering you?"

Max looked at him in utter surprise not sure how to take his old friend's flippant attitude towards what Max considered to be a very serious and dangerous problem.

"Here," the other boy replied and slid his mobile across the table. Alex picked it up and couldn't help but wonder what was inside. "Look for yourself."

He didn't need anymore invitation than that. The messages sent to Max were much more demanding and pointed than the ones Alex had been receiving. It was hardly a surprise. Anyone who knew something about them would know that Max was-and always would be-the easiest to crack. He didn't take pressure very well and he took violence with even less grace than he took being pressured.

Alex eyed one particular message above all others. Red was asking something. Not out right. They were much too subtle. But whatever it was they seemed to think Max had it.

"What is Red trying to get out of you?" he asked, when he'd finished with the texts and slid the phone back to its owner. Max shrugged.

"I'm not sure," he said. "Something to do with Cole I think."

"Like he gave you something and now Red wants it?"

It was an observation not a question but Max nodded along anyway.

"Yes," he said. "But Cole never gave me anything. Did he give something to you?"

"Yeah."

Max looked at him expectedly, wanting him to continue with that thought but Alex hesitated. He wasn't sure why. After all, it wasn't as if the thing truly mattered anymore.

"What was it?" Max asked.

"Just a flash drive," Alex told him.

"What's on it?"

"I don't know."

"You never looked?" Max questioned incredulously. "Even after he died? What if it was something important?" Max voice had started to rise and Alex shushed him quickly hoping that none of the other patrons had heard any part of that.

"Be quiet. It's password protected."

"And you couldn't hack it? You?" Again Max sounded incredulous and this time Alex didn't fault him. His friends knew he had been a proficient hacker for years. They had watched him get into numerous accounts, unlock phone apps, and other such things he probably would get in trouble for if anyone knew.

"I didn't want to," Alex told him and then held up a hand to stop the other boy before he went off about that. "Cole was dead. He asked me to hang on to it just after we'd started talking again. I was still mad at him for what he did to Tom and so I never bothered with it. I'd forgotten it until I saw the text Red sent you."

"Cole was _murdered_ Alex," Max stressed. "I know you thought he was a bad friend but Anita wasn't any better and you know it. She was the one that strung Tom along and laughed at him behind his back to anyone who would laugh with her."

"And I didn't feel very sad when she died either."

Max stared at him hard to see if he was serious. He knew that Alex sometimes said horrible things he didn't mean for one reason or another. It was just a matter of figuring out if he was bullshitting. But Max was fairly certain that Alex was telling the truth and the realization sent shivers down his spine and made the hair on his arms stand up. Alex smirked at him, knowing he'd gotten a reaction.

"Sometimes you're just as bad as Cole ever was," Max told him and couldn't help but feel pleasure at the stab of pain that flashed through Alex's eyes. "Tom told me that Red has been torturing him with Anita's death."

The shorter boy eyed him blankly and Max did his best to copy that expression. He knew Alex was wondering why Tom hadn't told him that but had seen fit to let Max in on it.

"When did he tell you that?" Alex asked, voice devoid of anything Max might be able to use against him. This meeting had spiralled out of control and it was suddenly, blindingly obvious why they were no longer friends anymore. There was too much history and so much of it was just too dark.

"I saw him before I came here. I saw Ryan last night." Alex didn't ask after Ryan and Max didn't expect him to.

"Max if you really want to know what's on the flash drive I can open it for you," Alex told him but Max was already standing up and shoving his mobile into his jacket pocket.

"Don't bother on my account," he snapped unable to stop himself. "It's not like I'm the one who was murdered."

He left the cafe without ever looking back but if he had he would have seen Alex with a contemplative expression on his face as if he was reworking his opinion about Max. And indeed he was. He hadn't expected him to get angry over an old flash drive that more than likely had stolen homework assignments and maybe a picture sent during a round of sexting. Cole collected things like that. He kept them with the intention of using them when the time was right.

00000

Back at home Alex peeled back the wallpaper that hid the small hole in his wall and pulled out a key. The key itself went to an army trunk his grandfather had owned that was stored in the attic and Alex made quick work of finding it and opening it up. In the trunk was what was left of his life with his parents. These were things that MI6 had allowed the family to keep after they'd cleared the Rider home of all possible sensitive materials. There was a baby album of him, his parents, and Ian. Copies of birth certificates and death certificates. A copy of the file Ian had kept on Jack as well as a copy of the completed Visa paperwork Jones had given him as proof that she'd kept up her end of their bargain. There was also his baby blanket, a locket a great-grandmother had worn, and his mother's engagement ring.

Off to the side in a small, crappy, cardboard box was a few things he himself had collected over the years. A special rock he'd found in the park, a popsicle stick with a smiley face that Tom had given him when he'd had his tonsils removed, and other various things that would mean nothing to anyone but himself. Among all of these special things was the flash drive Cole had given him the week before he'd died. Alex had barely been talking to him then, angry on Tom's behalf, but Cole had rang the doorbell one night and insisted that Alex keep it for him.

The blond boy had tried once to open it but when he'd seen it was password protected he hadn't bothered to try as hard as he knew he should have. Everything surrounding Cole and his memory was confusing at best. He had never been ready to pry into what the dead boy was trying to hide but with Red sniffing around and with MI6 aware that something was happening that might pose a threat he figured it was high time he opened this thing.

He closed up his trunk and took it back to his room. Once it was plugged in it was only a matter of minutes before Alex was past the password and looking at the files. Cole may have been a bit paranoid in his last days but he wasn't good enough to keep Alex out.

There were only a couple dozen files on the drive and most of them appeared to be word documents. They were labelled with numbers so Alex had no idea what could be inside them. Sighing, he resigned himself, and opened the first one.

00000

Wolf was sipping a beer and flipping through the channels on his television wondering if it was too early to go to the pub when his computer dinged. He set the beer on the table, muted the TV, and picked up the idling laptop from it's place next to him on the couch. Balancing it in his lap, he watched as Cub did something rather odd and the first interesting thing he'd done in a week. Eagle had started to collect the boy's text messages but hadn't gone so far as to start watching the kid's friends. That was what Wolf was for but he had only done one sweep so far. He had figured Cub would be the one worth keeping an eye on.

He watched in real time as Cub hacked his way past some sort of simple, password protected security and began opening word documents. They weren't the strangest word documents Wolf had ever seen but they were certainly peculiar. Whoever owned these had been doing some serious research and not the academic kind. It was page after page of newspaper articles concerning things Wolf wouldn't have connected.

Things about construction in the Underground, teen suicide, and how strong the undertows were in rivers and creeks running through London and the surrounding area. There was also a few things about moon cycles and exotic plants. Then there was something about organic chemistry and advanced mathematics. It was all very strange and it must have been strange to Cub as well because he kept opening and closing windows at random as if he thought that most of it was junk, simply there to disguise the presence of something else. After close to two hours of this, Wolf's screen suddenly went blank as he was booted off the kid's system.

He typed in a few commands trying to figure out what had happened. His surveillance program shouldn't have just randomly shut down, not even if Cub turned off his computer. Something had happened. Either the program had failed for some reason or someone had seen him in the system and had kicked him out. His money was the latter possibly considering who he'd been spying on.

He worked to try to get back in and had almost accomplished doing so when the screen went black and a skull and crossbones suddenly appeared. There was the sound of an electronic laugh pumping through the computer's speakers and then some words were typed out on his screen.

_Leave this alone or I'll expose you too._

Everything went still for a half minute and then the screen flickered between blue and black before the hard drive gave a loud clicking noise and everything shut down. He sat in stunned silence for a moment before he tried to turn the machine back on but it was no use. The whole thing was dead.

00000

Rosten was rather surprised when a fourteen inch laptop computer with a surprising amount of scratches on it was slammed onto his desk on top of the case file he'd been reviewing. He looked up to see an annoyed and grumpy looking Wolf looming above him with his arms crossed. He had long learned to recognize this expression as one that was worn only when something hasn't gone Wolf's way. He sighed and leaned back in his chair wondering what it was.

"What is this?" he asked pointing at the laptop.

"That _was_ my computer," he replied. "Now it's a really big paperweight."

"What happened?" Rosten asked, genuinely curious. Wolf wouldn't bother to physically hand him his dead computer if it wasn't relevant to what Eagle had put him up to.

"I was hacked."

"Somebody hacked you?" he asked. "Why?" People didn't bother with the personal computers of a single off duty soldier. Wolf didn't have access to anything at the moment and if he did it wouldn't be on his personal computer. The other man shrugged and dropped heavily into the chair by Rosten's desk.

"I don't know who but I'm pretty sure it was the same guy sending Cub all those messages," he told Eagle. "They found me in Cub's system. Threatened to expose me if I didn't back off. They even piped through the Joker laugh from Batman."

"You think they're serious?" Rosten asked. If Wolf's identity was actually exposed it wasn't so much that he would be in danger as it would be that his career was over. Wolf shrugged.

"Don't know. They may not even know who I really am. Just figured they'd go with a generic threat and hope I freak out myself so badly I'd stay away."

"Ambitious of them," Eagle smirked. Trying to intimidate Wolf was something not even he had tried to do. There were just some people who couldn't be threatened or bullied into doing what other people wanted. Eagle took a moment to consider what the world would be like if Wolf had been more attracted to the bad side.

"Certainly," Wolf smiled, pleased at Eagle's joke. "Anyway, my computer's dead and I'm not good enough to keep this guy out of my system twice."

"What are you suggesting?"

"That I phone a friend."

"What friend?" Rosten asked hesitantly fairly sure he knew where this was going but really hoping that he was wrong. Wolf leaned forward, elbows on his desk and seemingly pleased with his next course of action.

"Jake the Snake."

"No," Rosten said and stood up suddenly, grabbing his empty mug and walking towards the coffee machines in the back of the room.

"Oh come on," Wolf said, exasperated as he followed Rosten to the back and watched him fill up his mug. "You know he's way better at this crap than me."

"No," Rosten said forcefully.

"Look I know you two had a falling out or whatever but I really think he would be of some help."

"Are you saying that because you really mean it or because you think he and I should kiss and makeup?"

"Both," Wolf replied and without bothering to make fun of what Eagle had just said. He would have if he wasn't being completely serious in his suggestion. Rosten sighed. He was fairly certain he was going to regret this.

"Fine," Rosten said but stuck a finger in Wolf's face sharply to hold his attention. "But he works with _you_, not _me_. Got it?"

"Completely," Wolf replied and disappeared. When Rosten got back to his desk he set the coffee on the desk and pushed the computer off his files and onto the floor. Half the room looked at him when it crashed to ground, adding dents to the multitude of scratches. He ignored it for the remainder of the day.

00000

Alex spent the next couple of days simply going through the motions of his life. Jack hadn't noticed much of anything but then, Alex hadn't intended for her to. He was quite adept at keeping her out of the loop. He spent every free, waking moment he had trying to figure out the odd compilation of things Cole had collected and then saw fit to hide.

He wracked his memory of the events leading up to that fateful night trying to find some hidden meaning behind some simple word that he hadn't picked up on before. Cole had been killed before MI6 and at a time when Alex had wanted nothing to do with him. Now Cole was back, creeping into every thought and every action. He jumped every time his mobile beeped or buzzed and he had eventually just turned it off.

Sitting in his desk chair, blankly staring at the open document in front of him Alex relived those final months. Cole had been getting nastier and nastier as if something profound had happened to him and whatever it was hadn't been good. No one could say that the murdered boy had been open and honest even before he'd been caught stabbing Tom in the back, figuratively.

Alex hated to admit it but Max had been right to call Anita part of the problem. She had been a witch but Tom had been so smitten with her he couldn't see it and Alex hadn't had the heart to point it out. Still, it gave neither her or Cole the right to do what they had done. They all had been fighting for the rest of the time Cole had been alive. Alex had refused to barely speak to him so it had been an utter shock for Cole to suddenly ask him to hold onto something.

And why him?

Why hadn't Cole asked Ryan, who hadn't turned on him? Or even Max who wouldn't take anyone's side in the conflict? Why Alex? Had he trusted that Alex would break into the flash drive and figure out who had killed him? Had Cole known he was going to be murdered or at least suspected that he was going to be attacked?

It was a chilling thought and Alex felt a sudden wash of dread go over him thinking that he may have let a murderer walk around free for all these years because of some old schoolyard crush. Anita may have been opportunistic and petty but she had ultimately meant nothing in the grand schemes of things. Of course, it hadn't felt like that when it was happening.

The problem today was that Alex couldn't make heads or tails of what he was looking at. It all seemed some so random. And there was just so much of it. None of it flowed. He was starting to think he should bring in Ryan on this. The other blond boy may not be his favorite person but he had known Cole better than anyone. He knew how Cole had thought. Maybe he could figure this out.

Sighing in resignation, he turned on his mobile and pulled up his contact list. It wasn't like he had anyone else he could go to.

00000

"You've had this the whole time?" Ryan snapped, arms crossed and an ugly look plastered on his face. "Are you stupid?"

"Honestly," Alex snapped back, "I'd forgotten about it."

"You forgot?"

"Yes, Ryan. Contrary to popular belief, Cole wasn't the center of my universe. Now are you going to look at it or not."

The other snatched the flash drive from Alex's outstretched hand and turned on his heel sharply. Plugging it into his own computer he drummed his fingers in annoyance as the screen popped up. Alex had disabled the password protection days ago and Ryan immediately started opening files, ignoring the presence of the other boy with ease.

"This just looks like a bunch of crap he found on random Google searches," Ryan finally said.

"It's not," Alex insisted. "There's something important here. We're just missing it."

"Are you sure?" Ryan asked dubiously.

"Yes. Why else would he have given it to me in the middle of a fight?"

"To get you in trouble?"

"In trouble for what?" Alex asked, surprised. "Like you said, there's nothing too bad on there."

"Look, Alex," Ryan hedged finally turning to look at him. "How much do you know about what Cole was doing in the those last few days?"

"Not much," Alex said. "I know he apologized to Tom for that thing with Anita."

"Do you know why he apologized?"

"Guilt," Alex suggested but it didn't feel right. He had never know Cole to feel guilty about getting what he wanted.

"Dude," Ryan admonished, rolling his eyes. "Cole was trying to make sure that the group back together."

"Why?" Alex asked. "If he wanted other friends he could have had them easily. There was no reason to admit to something he hadn't thought he'd done."

"He didn't want to be friends with you," Ryan agreed. "He just wanted everyone to think he was."

Alex stared at him, wondering what he could possibly mean by that. There was no reason to pretend being friends with people who pretty much hated him. The whole school had known there'd been a falling out between Cole, Alex, and Tom. And nobody had even thought to turn their backs on Cole. He was too popular and Tom had been painted as a petty and jealous underling. Cole hadn't needed to save face. Not to them.

"Why?" he finally asked, confusion apparent.

"There was this Inspector hanging around," Ryan told him. "Asking questions about the night Anita was killed."

"Why would he investigate a suicide?" Alex asked.

"He wasn't sure it was a suicide. He seemed to think someone helped her fall off that bridge."

"And he thought it was Cole?" Alex asked, stunned. He had always known Cole had been cold and cruel but he didn't think he'd throw someone off a bridge. And especially not Anita. As far as Alex had known, Anita had done everything Cole had ever asked her to do and she had gotten the nice shiny trophy of popularity in return.

"Apparently," Ryan said. "I guess the Inspector thought that Cole had been trying to get back at Tom for something."

"Back at him for what?"

"I never knew," Ryan replied. "All I know is that the Inspector had enough evidence to think that Cole had hurt Anita because Tom had backed him into a corner over something. Of course, the Inspector also asked _me_ if I thought Tom could've killed her. I don't think he was very good at his job."

"Maybe," Alex replied offhandedly. Things between Cole and Tom had been ugly. Could they really have been _that_ ugly? He didn't think for a second that Tom had anything to do with Anita's death but it was possible that the fight between the two teens may have had something to do with why she was dead.

"But what about the flash drive?" Alex asked, snapping back to why he was there in the first place. He'd think about what Ryan had told him later.

"Whatever Cole was trying to hide, he hid it well," the platinum blond said. "I don't know what any of this is. Maybe he was writing a book?"

"A book?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Ryan shrugged. "I saw something about lunar charts. Maybe he got into werewolves before he died."

Alex honestly couldn't tell if Ryan was being sarcastic or not so he simply made a rude remark, collected his flash drive, and left. When he was home, Alex sat on his bed, flash drive safely secured in the hole in the wall, and thought about what he knew. If an Inspector had really thought Cole capable of murder over a schoolyard fight the best thing Cole could have done was make it seem as if there had been no fight. If there had been no fight, there would be no motive. At least, that was what Ryan had made it sound like.

But did all of this have to do with Cole's death or more specifically with this Red character? None of it was fitting. None of it was making any kind of sense. But Alex was sure that there would be answers in one location. The police station. If there was an investigation then there would be a file. Alex didn't have the skills to hack into the database but if he could get his hands on the hard copy he would be able to see exactly what the police had been thinking about Anita's death.

He didn't know much about it other than what Tom had told him. He needed to know what had happened on the bridge that night. It seemed relevant. Red had made it relevant.

00000

Working late into the night was something that Rosten did on a semi-regular basis. The day shift floor was completely deserted at this time of night and the silence and darkness gave him a chance to really think things through. If he listened hard enough he could hear the night shift people through the ceiling as they did whatever it was they did at night.

He flipped through Alex Rider's file again. This particular version was essentially blank. It told the story of a stupid kid who thought it had been a good idea to drop a yacht through the roof of police headquarters. Apparently it was some sort of petty revenge scheme that hadn't been well thought out. Rosten agreed with that conclusion.

The file stated that the police had taken Alex into custody for a while but that he had been bailed out and the charges had been inexplicably dropped, the matter swept under the rug. But that was all there was. Rider had managed to otherwise stay out of the system and the lack of information was driving him insane.

He sighed and shut the file putting it into the bottom drawer of his desk and locking it securely. He kept his two most important keys on a chain around his neck to avoid pickpocketing incidents. One of the keys went to his desk at the station and the other went to a storage locker rented under a false identity.

Tapping his fingers on his desk he tried to think through everything he knew. Obviously whoever was tracking Cub and his friends wasn't interested in petty teenage drama. Computer hacking, threats of exposure, and murder spoke of something very, _very_ different. Something that reeked of professionalism. Professional criminal that is.

This person or organization or whatever was probably not an enemy of Cub. At least, not in the way they were used to. This all went back to a kid's death that, while tragic, hadn't been very relevant. Until now. Now that death seemed to be extremely important.

And maybe that was the key. Not Cub but his dead friend. Someone had gone out of their way to send a message while at the same time getting rid of a problem. Whoever that message was for was either Cub or someone he knew. Furthermore, the closer they got the more apparent it became that there was something else going on than simple blackmail. This person was good and Rosten wanted to know who it was.

Standing up he he made his way to the lift and to the top floor of the building where the evidence boxes were stored. It wasn't all of their cases but the ones that were still open and had a prayer of being solved. Although, there were some that Rosten thought would never be solved. The evidence room took up the entire floor and had only two exits. There was an emergency fire exit that would announce to everyone that someone opened it the second you touched it. The other exit was the elevator. You needed a special card to get the elevator to reach this floor and only a few people had them for security reasons.

One of them was a man named Jonathan and it was his entire job to bring case evidence down to the relevant person requesting it. Jonathan only worked days and Rosten knew him fairly well. The people who worked nights didn't work the cold cases and the evidence they submitted were processed in a separate room on a different floor before it made its way to Jonathan who was the only one that wasn't politically powerful who was allowed in that room.

However, Rosten had also secured himself a key card to the evidence room. As part of his agreement with intelligence services he was allowed in this room whenever he wanted. He had never used it before but he figured now as a good a time as any.

The evidence room was shut down, almost all of the lights were out but but he could still maneuver well enough. He made his way to where Cole Atkins, murder victim, had his entire death summarized in a white cardboard box. It was easy enough to find but there wasn't much inside. At least, nothing useful.

As he familiarized himself with the Atkins murder file he got the sudden and unshakable feeling that he wasn't alone in this room. Rosten straightened up and very quietly set down the file in his hand. Leaving the evidence box where it was, he silently moved down the aisle of evidence to the open corridor between the rows of floor to ceiling shelves. He cautiously peeked around the corner of each one until finally, near the back, he found that other person.

He was actually quite amazed that the intruder hadn't heard him come in. But then again, the kid was so engrossed in what he was reading that Rosten doubted he would notice if he suddenly caught on fire.

"Cub!" he snapped, breaking the silence suddenly and forcefully. The kid jumped, dropped the file, and sprang up into a fighting stance on pure instinct. When he saw who had caught him he looked as if he was going to run. "Do not run."

"What are you doing here?" Cub asked and Rosten gave him a look that said to stop being ridiculous.

"I work here," he said bluntly. "What are you doing here? And you should give me a _very _good answer or I'm going to arrest you on all sorts of fun charges."

"Anita Zamora," Cub said.

"What?"

"Anita Zamora. She was a classmate of mine."

"The girl that committed suicide," Rosten said, the name clicking in his head. Wolf had told him all about the article he'd found and Rosten had read it himself just a few hours ago. "I thought her case was closed. That file shouldn't be here."

"The investigating officer thought the nature of her death was suspicious. He thought there was the possibility that she was murdered."

"And what do you think?" Rosten asked, interested despite himself. Cub gave him an assessing look as if trying to think about exactly how much information he wanted to give. Rosten didn't blame him. They had hardly been friends. Hell, they wouldn't even admit to being teammates. Cub was just an odd memory from training that nobody was legally allowed to talk about. And that meant suspicion freely flowed both ways which was rather unfortunate for Rosten because he needed Cub to tell him the truth.

"I think there's something I never knew," Cub finally told him. Rosten admired his ability to be completely honest and entirely cryptic all at the same time.

"Like what?" Rosten asked.

"Like what really went down between Tom, Cole, and Anita. There's something I'm missing and I know there's something you're missing too." It didn't surprise Rosten that Cub knew he'd been looking into the blackmail and the connection to a murder and a suicide. Although, neither he nor Wolf had thought the Anita girl would prove to be more relevant than just being a tool for cruel manipulation.

"Well Tom happens to be the only still alive," Rosten said and watched as Cub's face twist into something ugly.

"Tom's not a killer," he said coldly.

"Then what is he?"

"The kid that got in the way," Cub said and Rosten nodded. There was nothing to suggest otherwise. Wolf insisted that Tom's computer was pretty clean; he seemed to be a typical kid but then again, so did Cub. Anyone could seem typical and normal if they were smart enough to hide the bad parts of themselves.

"Do you think he's a target?" Rosten asked. Now that he had Cub talking he wanted to pick his brain. See what he knew and thought.

"I think Red thinks he may know something, Even if Tom doesn't realize it. Whether he's marked for death or not is something I'm trying to figure out." Rosten nodded. That made sense. Enough sense to even sound like the truth. Rosten swallowed it with a grain of salt.

"Makes sense," he said, nodding. "How did you get in here anyway?" It may have seemed like an abrupt change of subject but he legitimately wanted to know. And like most teenagers, Cub was happy enough to talk about how he outsmarted a bunch of adults.

"Broke into the electrical room and rewired the alarms to the fire exits. Then I just walked up the stairs. It's easy enough."

"A little too easy," Rosten replied. Cub nodded. They were local police though and the people they usually went up against didn't have the brains or ambition to do what Cub had done. Rosten looked him over. Cub didn't carry any sort of weapon and he was almost positive that the kid was retired. Or Cub thought he was retired. There was no telling what MI6's intentions were.

"Cub," he said and the boy gave him his full attention. "I'm going to go back to my desk now. But I want you stay in touch."

Cub easily understood what Rosten was offering him. He was giving him the freedom to go through the evidence room in exchange for knowing what he found. Cub nodded. Whether he would give him what Rosten needed to know was a matter he'd deal with later. But Cub was an asset no matter what way you sliced it.

Besides, there was no reason not to give Cub a little room to run. If the kid ran into a wall they would know. And if he caught Red, then all the better for them. A leak would be closed and he wouldn't be shot at. If Cub wanted to play detective he saw no reason to stop him. After all, the kid was the only one with any real insight on the situation and the skills to do something about it.

Yes, it was probably for the best to just let Cub do his own thing.

With surveillance of course. Always with surveillance.


End file.
